Scrabble Addicts
by nativefloridian
Summary: A different take on Beck/Heather.
1. Chapter 1

Beck sat in his office, rereading his files. After all that had happened – all that he'd been wrong about – he decided he needed to go over everything with a fresh set of eyes. _Ones that actually see_, he thought to himself, remembering Heather's accusation.

Green, Eric. A law student at the time of the attacks, he had taken on leadership among the Rangers and therefore the town, though in an unofficial capacity. Lover of Mary Bailey, owner of the local bar.

Green, Gail. Nurse. Wife of former Mayor Johnston Green, mother of Jacob Green. A leader in the community – a matriarch.

Green, "Jake" Jacob. Currently Jericho's sheriff, his career was interesting, to say the least. Son of Gail and Johnston Green, and heir apparent to his father's place in the community. Trained as a pilot, but working odd jobs that took him to dangerous places. His file should be thicker, but parts were classified, and it's not like he could call up HQ and ask for them. What was in the file was sketchy, but Beck had deployed to some of the places Jake had been, and he could guess at the type of information filling the gaps.

Hawkins, Robert. At least, that was the name he went by with his family. As an undercover agent, he had too many aliases to list. Since most of was Hawkins did was classified, his folder was very thin, mostly consisting of notes he took himself.

Lisinski, Heather. Schoolteacher. There was very little in her file that jumped out at him. No criminal record, no ties to anyone considered dangerous, not even a scandal to her name. She seemed apart from the town in her file, but she was very much involved in the town's affairs, and well-liked to boot.

He sat and puzzled out this oddity. As a teacher, she knew much of the town through their children. But, he realized, that really wasn't _knowing_ them. That was knowing their names and faces, perhaps their public history, but it wasn't really a relationship. And that's when he put his finger on it; she was well-liked by all, but aside from a friendship with fellow teacher Emily Sullivan, she was truly close with nobody. She had no family living; (Killed in a car accident while she was in college, her file said); no serious romantic relationships, no connection that normally was put into a file like this.

Which left him to fill in what he could from his own experience with her. Likable personality, helpful and upbeat, with strong mechanical aptitude. And beneath that friendly exterior, a keen mind and a spine strong enough to stand up to him as he threatened her life.

Sullivan, Emily. Schoolteacher. Banned from the president's visit because her father was a criminal, nevermind that he was long gone. Jake's long-time, on-again, off-again girlfriend…


	2. Chapter 2

Heather was sorting the mail when she came across an envelope addressed to the major. It caught her eye because it wasn't the usual military communication. It was addressed to Captain Edward Beck, not Major Beck. Also there was no physical location. It was an old envelope; it had probably floated around for months until they found and caught up with the major. It also contained some objects that rattled in the envelope. She held it up to the light. It appeared to be jewelry; a necklace and a ring. She checked the return address; Madrid, New Mexico. Oh no. This wasn't good.

She looked over her shoulder at the major. He was all business, as usual. The letter felt heavy in her hand and she wanted nothing more than to make that letter disappear. He didn't deserve this. But she knew she had to give it to him.

She decided to wait until the end of the day; it was only a couple of hours away, and it would be quieter. He usually worked later than most of the staff, so he'd have a little more privacy.

It was time. She steeled herself for this. She hated being the bearer of such bad news. She entered quietly and began to close the blinds. The darkening of the office caught Beck's attention. He turned on his desk lamp, looking at Heather curiously. He'd become fascinated by Heather; her normally cheerful, friendly exterior hid her inner strength so well that he sometimes forgot that this was the woman who'd had the nerve to call him a coward to his face. And be right, damn it. He'd learned to listen to her, not just because she stood her ground, but because she was usually right.

Heather finished with the blinds and turned to him, her face a mask. He frowned. What was up? She handed him a letter, although she was clearly reluctant to do so. It was heavy, weighted at one end with something metallic. He looked at the address. It was his sister-in-law's handwriting. He stared at the letter. Heather's behavior seemed to indicate that it was bad news, and he dreaded opening it.

But he drew a deep breath and tore the envelope open. He pulled out the letter and began to read.

_Dear Edward,_

_I hope this letter gets to you. I don't think I'll be able to see that it gets delivered myself. I've got the Hudson River virus, and it doesn't look good. I wish I could tell you this in person. I really wish I didn't have to tell you this at all. But here goes._

_Ally and Jenny caught the virus before I did, and they died. I'm truly sorry. It probably doesn't help any, but you should know it was quick, no more than a day. Ally made me promise to tell you she loves you, and that she wants you to be happy even though she's gone. Jenny didn't say anything, but she died in Ally's arms, clutching the dog tags you gave her._

_Again, I'm so sorry. I've enclosed Ally's ring and Jenny's dog tags. Hopefully you get them._

_ -Becky_

His eyes clouded over, the words blurring. He dumped out the envelope. The dog tags he'd had made for Jenny fell out, the ring hooked onto the chain. He held them, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was glad that they hadn't died alone, that Jenny had felt her mother's arms around her at the end. But, oh, he wished he'd been able to do the same for Ally.

He'd tried to deny it for so long. He knew, if they were alive, he should have heard from them months ago. But he'd listened to the irrationally hopeful voice in his head. And to Valente. Valente, that son of a bitch who'd lied to him about Sarah Mason had lied to him about his family too. He should have known better, that Valente didn't care enough to involve himself in tracking down some major's family. Yet he'd clung to the vague 'leads' Valente had fed him. The ones that that indicated they were alive, but on the move, so of course they'd been unable to contact them. But Beck knew that the last outbreak to go through New Mexico had been months ago, and Valente had offered his lies right up to the very end.

His anger helped him bring his grief under control. He wiped his tears and took a ragged deep breath. Now he knew why Heather had closed the blinds, bless her. He took the dog tags and put them on, dropping them under his shirt. The letter he placed in his drawer. He picked up the next report in his tray and resolutely dove back into his work.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been several days since Beck had received the package from New Mexico. He'd been understandably reclusive, but Heather was worried. He'd not only been shutting out others, but it seemed like he'd shut himself out – burying the pain deep, not dealing with it. She watched him staring at the same page for ten minutes now, as the twilight faded into darkness.

Heather walked into Beck's office, turning on the overhead light.

"It's late, sir. You should go home."

"I'm just finishing this report." He said distractedly.

Heather made a show of looking over at the title of the report to give him a little dignity, not let him know she'd seen him space out.

"You know that report can wait."

"Yes, but I might as well get it done."

"Sir, it's 7:00. You need to get out of here, not think about work for a while."

"Thinking about work is preferable to the alternative."

"Sir…" Heather's voice was sympathetic. Beck, hearing her tone, realized what he had just said. A look of embarrassment crossed his face. "Perhaps you should take a day or two for yourself." Heather continued.

"No." Beck said. He tried to infuse his tone with a note of finality, eager to drop the subject. Heather wasn't buying it.

"Sir, you really should – "

"I said no."

" – take some time for yourself." She continued over his denial. "You need it."

"No I don't."

"We both know you're lying."

Beck was visibly upset now, angry at her for prodding at the wounds he was trying so hard to ignore. He lashed out.

"How could you possibly know what I need?"

He expected her to flinch away, like all the others who had tried to talk to him about it. But she stood her ground.

"What, you think you're the only one who's lost their family?"

The question jerked him up short. His expression turned to a look of embarrassment. And shame, for being caught like this – unable to look past his own grief and see the suffering of others. Heather watched his reaction, seeing that she was finally getting through to him. She continued, widening the crack in his wall of denial.

"If you need to take some time, to talk about it with someone, that's fine. But you need to deal with it. You can't go on like this."

She watched him as he worked through his shock at her words, struggling to organize his thoughts, then listened as the words simply tumbled out.

"I – I don't – what do I – _how_ do I - ? I never thought I'd have to deal with this. I figured if anyone died, it would be me. Not Ally. Certainly not Jenny."

Heather realized he wasn't talking to her, not really. He was asking the universe to explain why it had taken his family, leaving him only a photograph and the cold metal he was now grasping through his shirt. But the universe wasn't going to answer him, so she spoke.

"I know it's hard, but you'll find a way through this. You just need to face it head on, not avoid it or bury yourself in your work." _Like before – you know it's there, you just need to open your eyes and see it._

He nodded, choppily, dismissing her. His face was a mask, looking away from her, but she could tell he had listened to what she had said. She had won. Getting him to listen - really listen - was all she needed to do; it had worked twice before, saving those people in Fall River, Missouri and the town of Jericho, not to mention her own page-stealing behind. Now he just needed to save himself.

Beck sat in the office, thoughts reeling. Heather had just called him out. Again. And she had a point. Again. Damn her. She was one of the few people who had the temerity to do that. And unlike Jake, she knew how to state her case.

What was he going to do now?


	4. Chapter 4

Heather took in the last batch of daily reports to Beck. He'd been doing better. He was understandably quiet and sad, but he wasn't ignoring it anymore. He'd even taken to putting his picture of them on his desk while he was working. It was getting awfully worn; she made a note to see if she could find any way to laminate it – a frame wouldn't fit in his helmet. She gave him a supportive smile as she laid the reports in his tray.

"Good night, major." She walked towards the door.

"Heather – " She stopped, turning back.

"Yes?" She noticed he seemed uncertain, hesitant to speak. Very atypical.

"I – does it ever get any easier?"

She looked at his face. His expression was nervous and vulnerable as he unconsciously touched the picture. She imagined he was seldom forced to ask for help. She chose her next words carefully.

"Well, you'll never stop missing them. But eventually it'll stop hurting quite so much."

"Eventually?"

"Yeah. It takes time. It only seems like forever."

He paused, eyes focused on a point only he could see. She waited.

"Heather, um, do you mind if I ask - ?"

"Car accident, freshman year of college. My parents were killed instantly; my sister - I wasn't able to get home in time to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry."

"I buried myself in my studies. I'd always been a good student, but I got straight A's for the first time ever. The only time I thought about them was in the dark of night, alone in bed." She saw recognition in Beck's eyes, and sensed he wanted to speak; she let him.

"Do the dreams ever stop?"

"No. But the nightmares do." She picked up where she left off. "When summer rolled around, I stayed at school, enrolling in courses that I thought would keep me busy. I thought I could keep it up. But, in the summer, things slow down whether or not you have classes; the campus is empty and quiet. I wasn't able to distract myself anymore."

"How'd you get through it?"

"My friend, she'd stayed over the summer too. I think she saw it coming."

"That's a good friend."

"She was." He raised an eyebrow at the past tense. "Chicago."

He nodded, reflecting on how so many conversations these days ended by naming a city. He made a decision.

"Would you like a drink?"

Two hours and several drinks later (drunken solely by Beck; Heather had taken one whiff and declined), they sat in his dark office, the last two people in the building.

"Valente lied to me. I should have known better. I was so stupid." Beck lamented, slurring slightly.

"No, not stupid. Just human, sir."

He snorted ruefully.

"I'm off duty, and you're listening to my drunken ramblings. Use my name."

"Ok…Edward."

"Ahh, better. It's been so long since I could respond to my own name." He took another sip of his drink.

"You're sure you don't want any?" he asked, gesturing at a point about three inches above the bottle.

"I'm sure." She reconsidered briefly. "On second thought, give me the bottle." He handed it to her, and she took it and locked it up, putting the key in her pocket.

"Hey!"

"You've had enough. I don't even think you can get back to base camp as it is."

"Sure I can." He protested, lurching to his feet.

"Riiiight. Why don't you crash here tonight? I'll get you some bedding." She looked at him attempting to move. "Sit _down_. I'll be right back."

The next morning, the staff arrived to find Beck's blinds closed. Any attempt to enter the office was intercepted by Heather. (She had gone home, after asking a discreet sentry to check in on him every so often, but had come back early.) The major finally emerged, clearly hung over but trying to act like he wasn't. The staff played along, understanding. (They were frankly surprised it hadn't happened the day he'd gotten the letter) There were grateful looks directed at Heather for looking out for him, for helping their CO when they couldn't.

Towards the end of the day, Heather walked in Beck's office without a word and placed the key on his desk. Before she could remove her hand, he covered it with his.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He released her hand and she left the office.


	5. Chapter 5

Beck wandered over to the impromptu first aid station. He'd initially thought that this would be a bad idea. Heather had come to him and suggested that they have a barbeque for Memorial day. A big one, with the soldiers joining in. He hadn't seen any real problem until she suggested a soldiers vs. civilians football game. He'd warned her that beating the civilians wouldn't exactly bring people to like them. She just laughed, and insisted it would be alright. Jericho could take them.

Heather was here, of course, tending a nasty-looking scrape on one of her former student's legs.

"Got any tweezers in that kit?"

She looked up to see Beck holding his palm carefully.

"Yeah. I take it you have a splinter."

"Affirmative."

"I'll just be a second." As she applied alcohol, she kept talking.

"Still think the game was a bad idea?"

"Yeah. But only because Stanley keeps running me over."

She laughed.

"Told you."

"You could have warned me, you know."

"Warned you about what?" she asked innocently.

"That he turned down a football scholarship."

"But that would have taken all the fun out of it." She said, smirking.

She finished covering the scrape with a clean bandage and turned to him.

"I'll do it, just give me the tweezers."

"Nah, c'mere. It'll only take me a second."

"That's okay."

"What, you don't trust me?"

"She's really good," piped up the little girl who hadn't left yet. "You don't feel it at all."

Heather raised her eyebrow at him. He caved, sitting down and sticking his hand out.

"Okay, three… two… done!"

Beck looked down.

"Wow. I didn't see that coming. You're sneaky." He started to pull his hand back, but she didn't let it go, reaching for the bottle of alcohol with her free hand. He winced in anticipation, causing the girl to giggle. Heather did too, when she saw what Jessie was laughing at.

"It doesn't hurt _that_ bad."

"Oh yes it does." He muttered. "Especially when poured over shrapnel."

"Ah." Heather said, trickling alcohol over the hole anyway. "Sorry."

He winced dramatically, playing to the juvenile audience present.

"Are you quite done?"

"Yes."

"Then can you give me a piggy back ride?" Jessie asked Heather.

"So _that's_ why you didn't leave." Heather muttered to herself. "Honey, you've gotten too big for piggy back rides."

"Have not. Daddy still gives me piggy backs."

"Your Daddy's a lot stronger than I am."

That stymied Jessie momentarily, but then she eyed Major Beck.

"Will _you_ give me a piggy back ride?"

Heather snorted at Jessie's quick evaluation and directness. Beck was just taken aback.

"Uh…" Jessie gave him a look of raw appeal. "…ok."

"Be careful what you agree to." Heather warned him as Jessie clambered up his back. "She'll run you ragged." Beck gave her a look of '_now_ you tell me' as little arms clamped around his neck.

"Alright. Where to?"

Where to turned out to be across the field, to the dock, to the tire swing, and to the buffet table/BBQ pit.

It smelled really good, and he turned in the direction of the line when a voice crossed the tables.

"Jessie! Get over here! Where have you been?" He looked over to see a man rushing over to him, peeling Jessie off his back. He turned to Beck. "Sorry, she can be a pest."

"She wasn't, it's okay." But the man was already hustling Jessie away.

"I thought I told you not to talk to strangers."

"But Daddy, Miss Lisinski – "

He felt his face fall as they walked away. Out of nowhere, Heather appeared with a plate of food.

"Wanna eat – you okay?"

"Yes." She looked at him for a second. "Okay, I'm not. Just give me a minute."

They walked over to a table in silence and began to eat. Then, suddenly, Beck spoke.

"How long do you think until people start to trust me?"

"What?"

"Trust me."

"Trust you how? To protect them?"

"Just as a person."

_Uh-oh. What brought this on?_

"Well, most people don't know you as a person. Why, what happened.?"

"Jessie's father. He couldn't get her away from me fast enough."

"Ah." She realized that Beck's mood had more to do with the fact that the little girl he'd been carrying around on his back wasn't actually his. She knew that while it wasn't a secret that Beck's family had died, John probably hadn't heard. He tended to keep to himself. So he didn't realize how his actions hurt Edward. "Don't take it personally. He's not the trusting type." Which was true enough, but not as much as she wanted Edward to believe. She moved the conversation along, to distract him from her half truth.

"So what was the wager?"

"The wager?"

"I know you made a bet on the game. What was it?"

"We now owe each of the rangers a night off guard duty." He said ruefully.

Heather just laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

Heather stood on the steps of city hall, waiting along with the others. Jake and Hawkins were returning. They would have come back earlier, but were held up by Hawkin's need to heal.

As the Humvee pulled up, she watched Darcy throw her arms, very carefully, around Hawkins; Emily nearly tackled Jake. She supposed some would think her jealous of her friend, but she wasn't. Her feelings for Jake had been as intense – and superficial – as a high school crush. She, the shy geeky girl. He, the brooding bad boy with a mysterious past. But as she'd told him, she'd come to realize they weren't right for each other. She wasn't dangerous, whereas he thrived on it. And Emily was perfect for him; she, too, thrived on danger. Hell, she'd gone into battle with him.

As the returning heroes were passed from person to person, family then friends, Heather went up to Jake and gave him a hug.

"Glad to see you make it back." She knew she was grinning stupidly, but she didn't care.

"Glad to be home."

Then, all of a sudden things got quiet. Beck had stepped out of the background, and Jake had noticed him. Jake stepped forward and they looked at each other for a long moment. Then, suddenly, Jake took a swing at Beck. Beck didn't duck, which so surprised Jake that he stopped his assault right there.

"Wha-?"

"I deserved that."

"You deserve worse." Jake spat, recovering somewhat.

"I do. But all the same, I'd rather you didn't."

"Jake, please."

Jake wasn't sure who said it, but it made him aware of all the watching eyes. And it reminded him of the things Hawkins was trying to teach him about perceptions, and letting his temper interfere with what needed to be done. He stepped back, eyeing Beck all the while.

"Thank you." Beck said quietly. Then he turned to Hawkins, holding out a leather case. "I believe this belongs to you."

"My laptop."

"I know you didn't want to leave it behind, but I'm glad you did."

"Took a look around, huh?"

"Yes."

"And you don't want to keep it?"

"I already copied the files. Well, the files I could get into. I'd appreciate it if you'd unlock the rest for me."

"I'll see what I can do. Some of them even I can't unlock."

"Let me know. I have a couple of computer geeks in the ranks if you need help hacking into them. In the meantime, you should get some rest."

That was all that Darcy needed to start steering Hawkins towards home. Jake had let Emily calm him down a bit, though he still didn't look like he would forgive or forget anytime soon. Heather hustled the Green contingent into Bailey's, looking back briefly as Beck went back to the office, ignoring the imminent bruise around his eye.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sometimes I wish Texas hadn't prevented the ASA from attacking us right away. At least then Constantino would believe that I really defected." Beck said in exasperation as they walked down the street.

He was referring, of course, to the continued opposition that Constantino's forces had maintained despite his public declaration of defection and the lifting of restrictions on both towns. Continued activity like raiding supplies and generally interfering with operations.

Heather understood his frustration. Only someone as paranoid as Phil Constantino would keep this up. Beck had asked to speak with him face-to-face, but the only response had been an attack on the armory in New Bern, injuring two of his men.

"I may have to reinstate curfews in New Bern." He said reluctantly. Again, Heather understood. The people of New Bern (and Jericho too, but they at least were willing to keep an open mind based on Jake and Hawkin's actions) still didn't trust him. The lifting of restrictions had garnered some gratitude, but not forgiveness.

"Maybe if you make it conditional – tell them that turning in Constantino gets the curfew lifted."

"Perhaps. I just worry that they'll think I'm singling them out. Which I would be. There's no reason to reinstate a curfew on Jericho, everything's been happening in New Bern."

Right about then, they were nearly run off the sidewalk by a boy on a bike.

"Charlie! Watch where you're going!" Heather shouted after him.

"She's catching up!" he called back. Which at least gave them enough warning to jump into the doorway of Bailey's as Jessie came flying by.

"Jessie! Off the sidewalk, both of you!"

Her chastisement was cut off by the scream of incoming mortars.

"Jessie!" the cry came from more than one direction. But it was futile. Beck got there first, just before Heather, and scooped Jessie up. She was limp in his arms, bleeding profusely from a stomach wound. There was no way.

"Jessie…"

"…Miss Lisinski?"

"I'm here, honey. I'm here."

"It'll be okay." Beck lied, choking on the words. "We'll get you to the hospital…"

"Ok…" Jessie's eyes closed. Beck bowed his head over her body. Heather felt her eyes spill over.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Heather looked up at Charlie, seeing the awareness on a face too young to know what he knew. Somehow that made it all ten times worse. All she could do was nod.

Beck sat on a stool in the morgue next to Jessie's body. He knew, intellectually, that there was nothing he could have done. But his heart refused to believe that.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, brushing away a stray hair.

"What are you doing! Get away from her!"

Beck jumped up, knocking over the stool. It was Jessie's parents.

"I just –" he paused, not knowing what to say. "I didn't want to leave her alone." He finished lamely. "I'm sorry."

"Right." The response was bitter. John moved in between him and Jessie. "Get out."

Beck stepped back, acquiescing.

"Could you pass me my helmet, please?"

Jessie's mother mutely reached for the helmet. John, however, continued to rage.

"He's _sorry_. The son of a bitch is fucking _sorry_ that I have to bury my daughter."

"At least you get to do that much." Beck murmured, and instantly regretted it.

"What? You have something to say? Say it so I can hear it!"

Unable to think of a wiser course of action, he repeated himself. John looked like he was ready to rip his head off, and Beck couldn't blame him. Fortunately, John's wife was able to restrain him.

"John! Stop!"

"You heard what he said!"

She didn't speak again, simply raising the helmet in her hands so he could see the worn, laminated, and worn again photo on the inside. For several seconds it simply failed to register. Then he sucked in a breath as it dawned on him. He turned back to Beck, wide-eyed. Beck met his gaze without any mask in place.

"I – " John started. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know. Believe me, I know."

John nodded mutely, handing Beck his helmet. Beck took it and walked out of the morgue.


	8. Chapter 8

After a quick examination of the mortar used in the attack that killed Jessie, Beck placed severe restrictions on New Bern. He instituted strict curfews and increased patrols. He raided suspected hideouts and weapons caches.

And all the while, he made perfectly clear his objective: Phil Constantino's force. If New Bern wanted these restrictions lifted, they had to give him Constantino. He was surprised at the (relative) lack of hostility from the citizens of New Bern. He hadn't taken into account how little they liked the man. That, in fact, they didn't like him at all. They had simply felt they had no other choice at the time. That, and they feared him. Still.

That last bit might be a problem in his search. They might not shelter him, and feel relief at the thought of him gone, but they were afraid to act against him. After all, who knew what kind of reprisals he might commit? The man was psychotic. He wouldn't hesitate to harm innocents. Innocents like Jessie.

His thoughts were immediately yanked back to last Sunday.

He'd shown up to the church in his cleanest uniform. He stood there for a full five minutes, debating whether or not to go in. He had just been about to leave when John and Cathy saw him and waved him into the church. He walked in, feeling the stares of the other mourners. He still might have walked out had Heather not caught his eye and given him a nod of moral support.

He sat off to the side and listened to the eulogy, though that eventually turned into noise as he stared at the child-sized casket. The spell only broke when the ceremony ended and the congregation began to exit. He realized that his face was streaked with tears and his hand held the chain with his wife's ring and his daughter's dogtags.

He looked around for a quick escape route. Seeing a door off to the side of the pulpit, he went through it. _Crap_, he thought _this is the Reverend's office. And there's no back door._

He scrubbed his face quickly and opened the door to look for another exit – only to get smacked as the door opened on its own.

"Sorry, Major." Reverend Jones was contrite, and he leaned down to pick up the chain he'd knocked out of Beck's hand. He glanced at it long enough to read the first two lines.

_Jennifer Beck_

_April 24 1996_

"Here."

Beck took it and tried to move towards the door, but was stopped.

"Could I speak to you a moment?"

Beck really didn't want to stay, but behind the courteous request was a forceful spirit that he couldn't disobey. He nodded.

"Are you okay?"

Beck looked at him in disbelief. Was he okay? What kind of question was that?

"Look, I was going to come talk to you anyway."

"What? Why?"

"Well, it's pretty clear you aren't just mourning Jessie." He nodded to the chain in Beck's hand. Beck felt his irritation rising. _Thank you, Captain Obvious_. "I was just wondering if you'd had a service for them."

"No." he snapped.

"I don't mean to upset you. I just want to help. I could hold a memorial for them." Sensing reluctance, he continued. "It can be private ceremony. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Beck stared at the mementoes in his hands, thinking for a full minute.

"I never thought I'd attend my daughter's memorial service. My wife's, maybe, years from now, but not my daughter's. I'm not sure I want to."

"Nobody does."

Another minute.

"You know, when I gave these to her, I never thought it'd be the only thing I had left."

"Is it an army thing, to give your kids dogtags?" Reverend Jones saw a sad smile cross Beck's face.

"Not really, no. I only did it so she'd stop taking mine."

The reverend couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"Wanted to be just like Daddy, huh?"

"Yeah." He said, his voice breaking, though a fond smile found its way through.

Reverend Jones waited, patiently, not wanting to disturb the fragile moment.

"Is this weekend okay?"

"Of course."

Beck stood and moved towards the door; the reverend followed.

"Thank you."

"I'm a reverend. It's what I do."

"…sir?" The voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "You wanted to be reminded about an appointment?"

"Thank you, Private."


	9. Chapter 9

Heather looked in the mirror at her outfit and sighed. _Twice in two weeks._ It was a conservative grey top and black skirt – what had become her 'funeral outfit'. It had gotten way too much use this past year and a half. Just putting it on made her feel gloomy.

But Edward had asked her to come. So she would go. She knew he hadn't asked anyone else. He didn't feel close enough to Jake or Hawkins, despite their improving work relationship. And one didn't exactly ask subordinates to come watch you bawl over your dead family. Seeing your CO losing control was bad for discipline.

When she arrived at the church, she found Edward putting up sort of a makeshift shrine. The photo from his helmet was leaning on a candle; the dogtag chain was placed in front of it. It was a graphic reminder of how little he had left. Soldiers had to travel light, which meant the type of photo gallery her father had had in his wallet (every year's school picture, as well as a few others, for both her and her sister) was out of the question.

As he stepped back, he noticed Heather standing there.

"Hey."

"Hi."

There wasn't much else that came to mind. They had already said the obvious. Reverend Jones stepped up to the pulpit as they sat in the first pew.

"We are gathered here today to remember the lives of Allison and Jennifer Beck. Allison – Ally – wife and mother; Jenny, daughter of Ally and Edward Beck. One of three siblings, Ally met Edward in high school and married him shortly after graduation. Five years later, they had Jennifer. Jenny was a happy, outgoing child who loved horses and dancing. She was also Daddy's little girl. She wanted to be just like him, continually taking his dog tags and hat and walking around the house saluting."

Tears were streaming from Beck's eyes; Heather couldn't hold back a small smile at the image of a little girl in Daddy's clothes marching through the house. She noticed for the first time that his dog tags were out – and on it, _his_ wedding ring. She'd wondered where his ring was.

"- their lives were ended too soon, like so many others after the attacks. They left behind Edward Beck – husband and father. Though the news was late in coming, their lives will not be forgotten. They live on in our hearts."

Reverend Jones stepped back from the pulpit and turned to Beck.

"Would you like to say anything?"

"I – I'll miss them." He was unable to form any other words. Heather reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Reverend Jones bowed his head and quietly left, allowing Beck a measure of privacy. Heather was still there, but she was his friend – he was not. More importantly, she could empathize better. He hadn't conducted the funeral for her family, but everyone in the area who was there at the time remembered the crash that took her family. Such an accident would have made the evening news in a large city; in small-town Kansas, it was a major event.

Heather watched as Edward gathered up his mementoes from the table.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

He snorted.

"Little late for that, don't you think?"

"Well, in that case…why don't you wear your ring on your finger? I know you can't wear it in combat – shiny things don't go with camo – but in the office - "

"It's silly, I suppose, but whenever I'm deployed I wear it there. I had mentioned to Ally once that in some ways I preferred the symbolism of wearing it close to my heart. She said she rather liked it too. And that it also seemed more 'me' when I was out in the field."

"More 'you'?"

"Well, she'd seen me 'on duty' – and said that while I was on duty, I was …reserved – private – whatever. It made sense to her that I kept my ring – with my emotions – on the inside when I wasn't with her. At least, that's what I understood, I'm probably botching what she said."

"No, I get it. It makes perfect sense. It's different, but it makes sense."

"God, I miss her. She always seemed to know me better than I knew myself. I used to think it was annoying, but I'm going to miss it."

"Yeah, I know. I always hated that my Mom could always predict me so easily – but the times I needed her, she'd already showed up."

Beck nodded in agreement, sitting mutely. They sat there for a time in silence, not needing words to convey the unfortunate camaraderie they shared. Finally, Edward stood up to leave.

"Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome. If you ever need – "

He shot her a sad, grateful smile.

"I know."


	10. Chapter 10

"Well, now what?"

"You mean now that we've told New Bern to go to hell?"

"Well, yes." That was one way to put it. Fed up with the continued resistance, and the fearful non-helpfullness of the citizens of New Bern, Beck had pulled his troops out of New Bern completely. Anyone who wanted to leave with them could, but once he left, they were on their own. He had taken all munitions supplies, leaving only a fair share of food and medical supplies for those who chose to stay. Some had come with him, but many just couldn't bring themselves to leave their home.

"We need to have more defenders. The Rangers are a good start, but if the ASA comes after us, we're going to need everybody we can get. Obviously, we can't really expect the 'refugees' from New Bern to fight their neighbors, but they can still fight the ASA."

"This is a list of able-bodied volunteers."

Heather handed over a list of names. Beck read it, then re-read it. Something stuck out at him about it, then he put his finger on it.

"An awful lot of women on this list." He murmured to himself. Heather picked up on it anyway.

"What, you don't think women can fight?"

"What?" he said, coming back to the present.

"You don't think that women can fight?"

Beck noticed the rest of the staff shift in their seats to watch the upcoming 'discussion'. Heather was pretty much the only one in the office who would take him on like this. _Of course, _he thought bleakly, _she's one of the few people I can't make dig latrines for pissing me off._

"Of course not." He said, voice weary, indicating that he wasn't really up for an argument. "It's just unusual, that's all. The percentage of women that volunteer for armed service is usually much lower."

"Well, this _is_ the end of the world."

"No, even that doesn't account for it. After the bombs we did see an increase in general of women fighting, but not this much. This is almost 40% women." He said, holding up the list.

"So Jericho is special, huh? I must admit I didn't see Jericho as a feminist hotbed."

The room chuckled at Heather's deadpan comment.

Captain Dunne, done snickering, spoke up.

"Actually, I think it's because more women _are_ able." This got her a sharp look from Heather, who wondered why a fellow female would defend the major on this issue. She elaborated. "I've noticed a distinct lack of pregnant women compared to most towns we've been in." She turned to Heather. "Why is that, by the way? The men in this town aren't _that_ ugly."

Heather was decidedly taken aback by the query. Beck smiled, burning the image in his mind. Served her right after all the times she'd cornered him.

"Uh…hadn't really thought about it. It's not like people aren't, uh, well, you know. I guess they're just being more careful?" Her cheeks were turning bright red, to the amusement of everyone. She buried her face in her hands.

"'Careful' doesn't explain it. Is there something in the water?"

Heather's head snapped up.

"What?" Beck asked. "Is there?"

"No. Well, there might be, but one of the factories in New Bern is a pharmaceutical plant. It had shut down for a while when I went off to college – the drug it had been making was discontinued." The officers waiting for the point of this rambling explanation motioned for her to get on with it. "Well, I'd heard talk that they were going to bring it back online, manufacturing the pill. There was some comment on it – Kansas is a tad conservative – and the issue wasn't resolved when I went back to school. I guess economics won out."

Beck chuckled again. That certainly explained a lot. And while he might have preferred a surplus of, say, antibiotics, he wasn't going to complain. It meant fewer mouths to feed in the long run. Besides, it helped morale.


	11. Chapter 11

" – and the goat's bleating gave us away."

Heather doubled over laughing, having to wait to speak until she caught her breath.

"Oh…my. Did they make you clean the barracks with your toothbrush?"

"No – the commandant actually thought it was funny, although he couldn't say so. We were merely confined to quarters for a week."

"I thought they'd be harsher for something like that."

"Well, nobody got hurt. Most importantly, it was a prank on the navy, which any soldier can appreciate. You know, the whole Army/Navy thing."

"Ah." Heather said. "I've always thought that rivalry was ridiculous."

"Maybe it is. My father only forgave my sister for marrying a sailor a few years ago."

Heather looked at him in disbelief.

"The sailor wised up and dutifully suggested an annual family Army-Navy game of bowling. Every year he loses on purpose. My father eventually came around."

Heather thought about asking if his family had survived, but she didn't want to ruin the mood, so she steered the conversation back to more the amusing subject of pranks.

"Well, that story _completely_ ruins your image as a stoic army officer."

"Don't let it get out. COs aren't supposed to have a sense of humor."

"Ever?"

"I tell people it was merely a rebellious phase in my youth."

"So I don't have to worry about you catnapping my Tom Cat and dressing him up in humiliating clothes?"

"No," Beck laughed "Besides, dressing up a cat sounds hazardous to my health."

"Not Tom Cat. He's a real rag doll, even for strangers. As long as he's getting attention, he's happy."

Heather's fond chuckle turned into a yawn.

"My, it's gotten late."

"You're right, we should probably call it a night."

"See you tomorrow."


	12. Chapter 12

Heather unlocked her bike from the post in front of the sheriff's office. Major Beck smiled as she began to sweet-talk 'Ruby'. It was, he thought charitably, an unattractive piece of machinery, but it worked. More than worked: in typical Heather fashion, she'd fiddled with it, even adding a small generator on the rear tire. She'd said it was originally intended to power a light bar on the bike, but she'd modified it to recharge batteries.

"Aww, Ruby, you were fine this morning."

"Trouble?"

"The tire's flat – I'm pretty sure the rubber has worn out. I do have another one at the house, though."

She began to rummage through her purse for her flashlight. Beck shifted, uneasy at the prospect of Heather walking home alone in the dark. He'd never been crazy about her biking home alone in the dark, but at least on the bike she had speed in her favor. He took out his flashlight and moved to walk with her. She turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He knew her real query, but purposely misread it.

"What? It's brighter than yours."

She rolled her eyes.

"So let's trade."

He suppressed a grin. She did have an independent streak.

"I need it tonight too. Tactical reasons."

"So you're going to follow your flashlight to my house and then all the way to base camp just so I can have an extra 4 feet of visibility on my way home?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it does sounds a little ridiculous. _But_," he said, rising to her challenge with a serious tone and mischievous face, "you also need to consider that mine is made of steel and yours is small and plastic. If you happen to come across an attacker, mine is a better club."

"Is that one of the aforemention 'tactical reasons'? You intend to club someone over the head tonight?"

"Well, Lieutenant Johnson does have a tendency to mouth off. I like to keep it handy."

"It's really no big deal."

"So I might as well come along."

Heather saw his expression and recognized that there was no winning this one. _Men!_ She thought ruefully.

"Tell me, were you always this… chivalrous… or is this beaten into you in army training?"

"Well, they did hit us over the head with the 'an officer and a gentleman' line. Though I'm sure my mother would like to take some credit for it." He grinned in the dark, sensing surrender. She sighed.

"All right, you can take me home. On one condition."

"What would that be?"

"Stop _grinning_ like that."

"Like what?"

He put on his best innocent look. Heather responded with her best teacher voice.

"Don't play innocent with me. It won't work."

"Awww."

"So do we have a deal?"

"I suppose. You are _no_ fun."

"Right up here." She said, pointing. As they reached the gate, Beck opened it with exaggerated flourish. Heather gave an exasperated sigh as he walked her to the front door. She was an adult, for pity's sake. He smiled. He wouldn't usually do this, but it was fun to play this 'gentleman' bit out to tease Heather. Which, he admitted, wasn't very gentlemanly of him.

"No grinning!"

"That was a smile, not a grin." His smile broadened into a grin. "This is a grin."

"Will you stop that? Geez."

She opened her door, doing her best to ignore him. That was when he flung her to the side and barged into her doorway.

_What the hell?_ Then she heard sounds of a struggle inside. She grabbed her father's old wrench from the umbrella stand and hefted it, stepping inside cautiously. She found one body on the floor already and saw Edward struggling with a second man; Edward was pinned to the floor, holding a knife away from his throat. She stepped over the first man and swung the wrench as hard as she could.

Edward heard Heather come into the house. _Run, Heather, run!_ But instead she came into his view and swung a large wrench. Next thing he knew, his opponent was off him and he tasted blood. He spat, trying to get rid of the salty taste. He sat up and looked at the second man, who'd jumped him from behind. A piece of paper had fallen out of his pocket; it had an amount of money on it, and this address. _Hijo de Puta. Why are they – _his question was interrupted by a loud thud as Heather dropped the wrench to the floor. She looked ill, staring at her hands, which were flecked with blood. She swayed, and he scrambled to catch her as she passed out.

He carried her unconscious form into the living room, propping her up on the couch. He should clean her up a bit before she woke up, otherwise she might pass out again. For that matter, he should clean himself up too; he'd been closer to the impact and he was sure he looked gruesome.

Heather woke to the feel of a warm, damp cloth on her hands. She opened her eyes to find Major Beck sitting next to her, wiping her hands with a washcloth. She couldn't figure out why at first.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a bounty on your head?" He was upset.

Oh. Right. She sat up.

"I didn't think they would still be after me, since you pulled out of New Bern."

"They?"

"Constantino. He did that because I was helping you fight him. But, like I said, since you pulled out of New Bern, I figured he'd dropped it."

"You should know better. This is Constantino we're talking about."

"But - "

"Heather, they were going to _kill_ you! Por qué diablos –" he lapsed into Spanish, but caught himself. "- why the hell didn't you tell me!"

She blinked, taken aback. He'd never actually yelled at her before – and she'd never, ever heard him curse. In Spanish, no less. He was _really_ upset with her. She looked at him, not really sure what to say.

Edward saw her blink in surprise. Good. Maybe he'd gotten through to her about how serious this was. She was smart but she had a tendency to not think of herself, even when it was important. He sighed in exasperation as he brought the washcloth to her face.

"Hold still."

She watched him as he cleaned her face like he would a child's. She saw the worry in his eyes, only half-sensing the gentle strokes of the washcloth. Her mind was reeling, trying to make sense of events.

Constantino had put a bounty on her head. And Edward had saved her life.

Looking back, Heather didn't know what possessed her to do what she did next. Perhaps it was the concern in his eyes. Maybe it was the proximity of his face. Or she could just have been dazed and lightheaded from the shock of it all.

Whatever the reason, she kissed him. He froze in place, hand in midair. She pulled back, looking away.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't have – I –"

He stared at her in shock, watching her cheeks turn red as she stared out the window, hiding behind a veil of hair. She was embarrassed, but he didn't know why. It hadn't been inappropriate - he wasn't offended, just surprised.

"Heather."

When she didn't respond, he reached over and gently turned her face back to him, lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes.

"Heather," He said, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "It's okay."

That was when the floorboards by the door creaked. Edward drew his gun and motioned for her to hide.

"Heather! You ok?"

It was Bill's voice. Edward lowered his gun slightly, but kept it at the ready.

"She's fine."

"Major? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. We're okay." He rounded the corner to find Bill and Jimmy. All holstered their guns once they confirmed the identity of the others. Bill and Jimmy stepped around the bodies, trying to avoid tracking the mess into the living room. Jimmy looked faintly ill at the sight of gray matter on the floor.

"What happened?" Bill asked. "Mrs. Grant called us, told us something looked wrong." He surveyed the scene. "Looks like she was right."

Beck simply handed him the paper he'd found with the bounty amount and her address on it.

"Damn."

"It's a good thing you were here to take care of these guys."

"I almost didn't. Heather got the second one." Heather shuddered in memory. She still couldn't believe that she'd done something like that. Jimmy apparently shared her disbelief, though Bill seemed impressed.

"Sir?" Another voice came from the doorway.

"Hello, lieutenant. You got here quick."

"Heard the report on the police radio."

Shortly thereafter, Heather's house was very busy with soldiers processing the scene. She stayed on the couch, just staring at it all. Staring at Beck. The man she'd just kissed.

One of the soldiers noticed the direction of her disbelieving gaze and his face showed sympathy. He could hardly blame her for staring at a friend she'd just seen transform into a killer.

"Never seen him like that before, huh?"

"Uh-uh."

The soldier didn't seem to notice that they'd had two entirely different conversations.

Beck looked at his watch. It had been late when they'd left the office; now it was _really_ late. He looked over on the couch. Heather was asleep. Poor thing. She'd had a rough night. He went over to her and gently shook her shoulder.

"Heather. Heather, wake up."

"Mmmm?"

"Heather, if you'll get your things I can take you to base camp. It's safe there."

"Base camp?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah. I'll even put you in the VIP tent."

"All right…"

Beck was answering a question from a lieutenant Greeves when he heard Heather scream. He raced to the sound, finding Heather in the bathroom frozen in place. He took her in his arms and spun her as he hustled her away from the perceived threat, nearly tripping over her dropped duffel bag as his men pulled their weapons. When there was no more noise, he looked over his shoulder and found what must be Heather's beloved Tom Cat, his neck bent at an unnatural angle, under the sink. His friendliness had undoubtedly gotten him killed.

"Dios, Heather. I'm so sorry." Her only response was a moaning sob, muffled slightly by his body armor. His kept her in his arms as he guided her back into the living room to keep her from seeing the broken body again. He gestured at one of his men to take care of the cat, and Capt. Dunne to finish packing the overnight bag. Capt. Dunne was efficient, and Beck steered Heather out the door before anything else could happen.

As they pulled into base camp, Beck woke Heather. She'd quickly cried herself to exhaustion on the ride over, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Mmm? OK."

He helped her out of the vehicle and steered her towards the right tent. She was practically still asleep, feet moving automatically beneath her.

"Cot's over – nevermind. You found it."

Collapsed on it, more like. He went to retrieve her bag. When he returned, she was already out. She hadn't even taken off her shoes. Well, he could at least do that much. After placing her sneakers under the cot, he pulled the sheet over her shoulders. He found himself watching her sleep. She looked so exhausted. And beautiful, despite the pain. He reached out, fingers brushing her cheek. He surprised himself with a yawn. He'd best get to bed too; it was 2330.


	13. Chapter 13

Edward woke up at reveille. He grimaced as he sat up, reminded of last night's events by several bruises. He stretched, recalling. Last night was...interesting. And Heather - what was he going to say to her? That was probably the worst night of her life. _You'd better think of something quick. She's only a couple of tents down._ He stood, putting on his uniform while his brain tried to process the request.

Heather was also awakened by reveille. Interrupting a dream featuring Edward. She woke, eyes widening as she realized where she was. Images tumbled around in her mind as she lay on the cot. She wasn't sure which were left over from her dream and which had actually happened. Some of them had to be true, seeing as she had ended up in an army tent. But which ones?

"Heather, you up?" That was Edward, outside her tent. "Heather?"

She didn't respond at first. She didn't know what to say.

"Heather?"

"I'm up."

"May I come in?"

"Uh, just a sec."

She sat up and scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the worst of it. Then she took a deep breath.

"Ok."

He entered to find her sitting on the cot.

"How are you feeling?"

"Confused."

He raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"I'm not really sure what happened last night. I just woke up from a dream, and I'm not sure what was part of the dream and what actually happened." She paused, looking around. "Although, since I'm here, I'm pretty sure some of it did happen. It's just kinda blurry where the night ended and the dream began."

"I'm not surprised. You were asleep on your feet when I brought you here."

She paused, not wanting to say what she did remember; she didn't want to tell him what she remembered for fear that she'd imagined it all. That if it hadn't happened, she would be embarrassed discussing it with him. Nothing like telling a guy you'd kissed him – but only in your mind.

Her mind skittered away from what she remembered after that, denying even the possibility it could have happened. An imagined kiss, while embarrassing as hell, was nothing compared to that. The _image_ of Tom would haunt her nightmares for weeks. She'd give almost anything for it not to be true. So she sat there silently, her eyes pleading with Edward to tell her it was all a bad dream.

He watched her face as she hesitated, able to guess some of what she was thinking.

"Well, let's see, your bike broke down, so I walked you home. There were two men waiting at your house to attack you; I got one and you got the other." He paused, looking at her to confirm she was staying with him. "You passed out. I woke you up and then Bill and Jimmy showed up, followed by Lieutenant Sorey and several more soldiers. You fell asleep on the couch while everyone else cleaned up." He paused, taking a deep breath. He'd left out the part where she'd kissed him. Nobody else knew; nor did they need to. He hadn't been offended, but he'd save her some embarrassment. She'd have enough to deal with that couldn't be avoided. "However…"

"Tom…"

"I'm sorry."

He looked at her and grasped her hand gently as a tear slid silently down her cheek. Heather watched her hand disappear inside of his. His touch was gentle, though she felt the strength in it, lying dormant. _Strength enough to kill a man_, she thought distractedly, then dismissed it as he spoke gently.

"We should get around. We need to figure out what to do about you."

"About me?"

"About how to keep you safe. I'd like you to move to a safer location."

"I don't want to move!"

Edward sighed in exasperation. Even after last night, she wanted to go back. She probably figured she had nothing left to lose. _Only your life, Heather. And I won't let you throw that away. _ He took his other hand and tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. He wanted her to understand.

"It's not safe there. And I'm not saying you have to live in a cell. I just want you someplace that's closer to the center of town, and is easier to secure." She looked at him, her expression mulish. "Please, Heather. I want you safe."

"Is this the major speaking, or my friend?"

He looked at her for a moment, taken aback.

"I don't know." He admitted. "But I'm not being paranoid."

She was forced to concede his point. But she didn't want to move. She never had taken well to being told what to do, much less 'taken care of'.

"I don't want to live under lock and key."

"I know."

Heather looked up at the fear in his voice. Fear?

"I'll be okay. I'll be careful. I promise."

"Let me protect you. Please. I'm the one who put you in danger in the first place."

Heather looked at him; there was guilt in his eyes. That's what undid her.

"All right. But only within reason. I'm not going to live like a prisoner."

"Thank you."

He stood, still holding her hand. She rose with him, and was surprised when his arms suddenly went around her, nearly crushing her. She did have to admit she'd never _felt_ safer than she did right now. Nothing in the world could penetrate this embrace. A quiet voice spoke into her ear.

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

After a moment, he released her and strode out of the tent.


	14. Chapter 14

"Now I want you to tell me everything that's happened between you and Constantino."

"Not much, really."

He sighed in exasperation.

"Heather."

"Yes?"

"You've got to tell me. I need to know all the little details, even if _you_ don't think they're important."

Heather had the grace to look abashed at his tone.

"Ok, where do I start?"

"At the beginning."

"Well… New Bern isn't as small as Jericho, but it's still small. I babysat for his daughter when I was in high school. After that – in college – I kept in contact with his daughter, but not him. And when I got out of college, I found a teaching job in Jericho. I still kept in touch with Alice, but now _she_ was away at college, and I didn't get in to New Bern much."

"After the bombs hit, my first time back in New Bern was with Russell. I'd gone back as part of a deal to make windmills to generate electricity. I worked there, pretty much buried in the shop – aside from the Russell, and the others that working in the shop, I was pretty well left alone. Nobody wanted to distract me. Anyway, I needed a particular part, and nobody else was there at the time to ask, so I went looking. What I found was mortars being made. I was shocked, but I was convinced that they were being made for self defense." Beck looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Naïve, I know. I believed them because I just couldn't believe they'd attack anyone. It wasn't until I saw the map of Jericho, divvied up amongst the leading figures of New Bern, that I couldn't ignore the truth."

She paused, shuddering at her naïveté. And at what she did next.

"I stormed into a meeting and asked what the hell they were doing. God, that was stupid. Constantino looked at me – he didn't even try to deny it. What he did try to do was to convince me to join them. New Bern was my home, after all."

"I refused. He started going on about how there was no choice, that Jericho wasn't helping them, and on and on. I told him to go to hell."

"That was when he threw me into a cell. I haven't seen him since. I've heard his voice, 'interrogating' Jake and Eric, but I never saw his face. Eric was in the cell across from mine. I waited a while for him to come to me, interrogate me, but he never did. I realized that I had nothing he wanted. The only information I possessed was information he didn't want me to have. He didn't need to interrogate me."

"Just kill you." Beck said, disgust in his voice. "How Machiavellian of him."

"Machiavellian. Yeah, that sounds about right."

"The first time I heard about the bounty was when Russell came through, looking for Goetz. I guess I forgot to mention it because of everything else going on."

Beck snorted. _Forgot. That's Heather, all right_.

"And you haven't left anything else out?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Well if you remember anything else, you'd better tell me." His eyes bored into Heather, and his tone…Heather nodded furiously.

"I promise."

"Good. Now my men have been looking around, and found you a place. It's actually the old Ravenwood quarters." Heather looked at him in disbelief. "I know, I know. Nobody's expressed interest in it both because of the former occupants and how it looks. The truth is that it's actually still very securable. The Molotov cocktails ruined the exterior looks, but the concrete block construction is sound. Which is exactly why Ravenwood built it that way. A new, sturdy door, and it'll be safe."

Heather still looked doubtful about the whole idea.

"Well, at least it'd be convenient, it's only a few blocks from here…" she said, in a tone that said she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

"And one of us from the office will walk you home every night and make sure you get in safely, and pick you up in the morning."

"Geez, am I allowed to cross the street by myself?"

"Well, you'll probably be okay going down main street to Bailey's for lunch. But if you're going outside the center of town, or _anywhere_ after dark, I want you to be with someone armed - a Ranger or one of my men. Also, you need to learn some basic self defense moves."

"Well, I know how to fire a gun."

"What, a hunting rifle?" His tone was skeptical.

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just pretty useless in close-quarters combat. You did pretty well last night, with that wrench, but – "

"Don't remind me." Heather looked green.

"Sorry. The point is, you need to know how to use a proper weapon – or at least enough moves to escape a grip or disarm an opponent. I can have Sergeant Dixon give you lessons."

Heather nodded, resigned to the new lifestyle she was about to live.

"I presume that I'm to move immediately?"

"As soon as we can fix it up. You can stay in the VIP tent for a couple days. And Sergeant Dixon is few tents over, I'll introduce you so you can start your lessons." He shuffled through his papers. "Ok, that seems to be all for now. Are you okay to work today? You can take a day if you need it."

"And do what else? Besides, I'm pretty sure the sheriff's office is as safe as it gets."

Edward chuckled.

"Can't argue with that. I believe you have some visitors to deal with first, though." He pointed through the glass, where Emily and Mrs. Green could be found watching her. "Go on. I think I have some resource consumption reports in my desk somewhere."


	15. Chapter 15

Heather walked out from behind the counter into a hug from Emily.

"Thank god you're safe. I nearly killed Jake for not telling me that something had happened until after I finished breakfast." She released Heather to look her in the eyes. "How are you holding up?"

"Could be worse."

Gail looked on, assessing Heather in the way only mothers can. To her shame, she hadn't seen Heather much lately. She'd taken Heather in as a quasi daughter, along with Emily, after the bombs. But a petty part of her was in full Beck-avoidance mode, so she hadn't come into the sheriff's office in a long time. She hadn't seen Heather with Emily much lately, either – Emily and Jake seemed to be getting serious. She only hoped it would stick this time. She'd lean on Jake to marry the girl if she had to.

"Come here." She told Heather, having finished her evaluation, and wrapped her up in a patented Mom tm hug.

"I heard about T.C. I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"I know you can't replace a cat, but I think that there's a few barn kittens over at Stanley's."

"Maybe later. My housing situation isn't set at the moment."

"Where are you staying?"

"Base camp."

"Ugh. Would you like to stay at our house until your place is set up? It's safe with the boys in the house, and it's much more comfortable than a tent."

"What, and deprive Emily?" Heather said, referring to the fact that Jake often didn't make it to his own bed these days. The same could be said of Eric and Mary. "I think not. Besides, it's only a couple of days – I even have the VIP tent."

"Are you going to move back into your place?"

"No, it's 'not securable'." Heather said, wrinkling her nose. "Beck's going to move me into the old Ravenwood barracks. He says it's the most securable place in town."

"Ravenwood HQ? Ick, do you want me to bring the priest over to perform an exorcism?

Heather chuckled at Emily's offer.

"Not a bad idea. A few gallons of Clorox would be good too, though I'm not sure even that will be enough."

"Sounds like a party."

"Yeah, I'll send out invitations – 'Heather's decontamination and move-in party' BYOHS."

"BYOHS?"

"Bring Your Own Hazmat Suit."

Just then Beck walked by.

"That's actually a really good idea. I can use that time to go over entrance/exit protocol with everyone all at once."

"Entrance/exit protocol?"

"What, you think you're going to just open the door for whoever knocks?"

Heather shot a 'Please-save-me-from-this-madness' look at her companions.

"You can't find a door with a peephole?"

"What if someone's hiding behind the person you see with a gun at their back? Heather, I do things for a reason. We got lucky last night; you can't take this lightly."

"I know, I know." Heather replied in exasperation. "I just hate being babysat like this."

"It's not babysitting. It's necessary. And I wish you would stop giving me a hard time about it. I'm _trying_ to keep you safe."

Gail noticed that he seemed a little exasperated himself, and hid a small smile.

"Ok, ok. I'll be good."

Beck just snorted in disbelief as he walked away.

"You know, though it pains me to say it, you need to ease up on him."

Heather looked at her, surprised.

"He really seems to worry about you. And he _is_ trying to help."

"It's guilt talking. He feels responsible for Constantino putting the bounty on my head."

"Hmmm." Gail gave the Major's back an evaluating gaze.

"So lunch at Bailey's?" Emily asked.

"Of course. See you then."

"And if you can't eat the chow in the mess tent, there's always a place for you at the Green table."

"Thanks."


	16. Chapter 16

Heather walked out from behind the counter into a hug from Emily.

"Thank god you're safe. I nearly killed Jake for not telling me that something had happened until after I finished breakfast." She released Heather to look her in the eyes. "How are you holding up?"

"Could be worse."

Gail looked on, assessing Heather in the way only mothers can. To her shame, she hadn't seen Heather much lately. She'd taken Heather in as a quasi daughter, along with Emily, after the bombs. But a petty part of her was in full Beck-avoidance mode, so she hadn't come into the sheriff's office in a long time. She hadn't seen Heather with Emily much lately, either – Emily and Jake seemed to be getting serious. She only hoped it would stick this time. She'd lean on Jake to marry the girl if she had to.

"Come here." She told Heather, having finished her evaluation, and wrapped her up in a patented Mom tm hug.

"I heard about T.C. I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"I know you can't replace a cat, but I think that there's a few barn kittens over at Stanley's."

"Maybe later. My housing situation isn't set at the moment."

"Where are you staying?"

"Base camp."

"Ugh. Would you like to stay at our house until your place is set up? It's safe with the boys in the house, and it's much more comfortable than a tent."

"What, and deprive Emily?" Heather said, referring to the fact that Jake often didn't make it to his own bed these days. The same could be said of Eric and Mary. "I think not. Besides, it's only a couple of days – I even have the VIP tent."

"Are you going to move back into your place?"

"No, it's 'not securable'." Heather said, wrinkling her nose. "Beck's going to move me into the old Ravenwood barracks. He says it's the most securable place in town."

"Ravenwood HQ? Ick, do you want me to bring the priest over to perform an exorcism?

Heather chuckled at Emily's offer.

"Not a bad idea. A few gallons of Clorox would be good too, though I'm not sure even that will be enough."

"Sounds like a party."

"Yeah, I'll send out invitations – 'Heather's decontamination and move-in party' BYOHS."

"BYOHS?"

"Bring Your Own Hazmat Suit."

Just then Beck walked by.

"That's actually a really good idea. I can use that time to go over entrance/exit protocol with everyone all at once."

"Entrance/exit protocol?"

"What, you think you're going to just open the door for whoever knocks?"

Heather shot a 'Please-save-me-from-this-madness' look at her companions.

"You can't find a door with a peephole?"

"What if someone's hiding behind the person you see with a gun at their back? Heather, I do things for a reason. We got lucky last night; you can't take this lightly."

"I know, I know." Heather replied in exasperation. "I just hate being babysat like this."

"It's not babysitting. It's necessary. And I wish you would stop giving me a hard time about it. I'm _trying_ to keep you safe."

Gail noticed that he seemed a little exasperated himself, and hid a small smile.

"Ok, ok. I'll be good."

Beck just snorted in disbelief as he walked away.

"You know, though it pains me to say it, you need to ease up on him."

Heather looked at her, surprised.

"He really seems to worry about you. And he _is_ trying to help."

"It's guilt talking. He feels responsible for Constantino putting the bounty on my head."

"Hmmm." Gail gave the Major's back an evaluating gaze.

"So lunch at Bailey's?" Emily asked.

"Of course. See you then."

"And if you can't eat the chow in the mess tent, there's always a place for you at the Green table."

"Thanks."


	17. Chapter 17

Heather took a swig of water during a rest break. She was here at base camp, taking those self defense lessons from sergeant Dixon. They felt more like boot camp than 'lessons'. She caught a cluster of guys sitting nearby quickly averting their gaze from her when she looked their way, and hid a smile. She'd initially felt embarrassed – guys didn't typically ogle her, at least not so obviously - but that had passed. And it's not like she was entirely innocent, either – this was a shared exercise area, full of cute guys in various amounts of clothing.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder – which she immediately grabbed, spinning around to see the 'assailant'.

"Edward?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. But I'm glad to see you're on your toes." He gestured to a couple of crates. "How's it going?"

"Dixon's a slave driver." She took another drink. "And he's constantly coming up behind me on breaks to attack me unawares. That's why I reacted like that." She saw Edward try to hide a smile. "You snot! You sicced him on me!"

"No I didn't – honest! He does it to everyone he trains. It just never gets old, that's all."

"Glad you find it amusing."

"Well, it really is important to stay on guard at all times. Even if you have an escort."

"Escort." Heather snorted. Edward sighed. Previous terms such as 'bodyguard' and 'protection detail' had also fallen flat. He was going to have to find a thesaurus soon. Time for another approach.

"You know, I could get any of those guys to volunteer as your sentry." She looked at him. "Sentry – one who guards entrances and exits"

"I _know_ what it means. And if you put a guard on my door, I will hurt you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Watch me."

"If you don't cooperate with your escort service – " Heather actually barked a laugh at that term, he noted, filing that one away. "I _will_ put a sentry at your door. There's already plenty of volunteers."

"Volunteers?"

"Yeah, you're going to have a different soldier walk you home every night at the current rate."

"Oh, god."

"I think they're hoping for more brownies, personally."

_I certainly hope that's all they want from me._

"I can veto any of them, right?"

"If you insist, though I don't think that'll be necessary." As he followed her train of thought, he added "They know better than to get fresh with you. You've got friends in high places."

"Thanks."

"You still available Wednesday?"

"Why, yes, I happen to be free. Which you know damn well, since you're practically dictating my schedule for me. Why, you want another chance to lose at Scrabble?"

"Not quite how I'd word it, but yes. And I'm going to mix the tiles extra well."

"Yeah, blame the fact that you lost the last three games on the tiles."

"Well, it _is_ statistically improbable that you'd draw the Q and the X every single game."

"Whatever. You're on. Soon you'll learn that this little crusade of yours is _quixotic_." She smirked, rubbing it in. He pointedly ignored the jab.

"I'll bring popcorn."

"Ugh. Only if you can find butter." Popcorn was one of the latest attempts at culinary variety from a staple crop, and Heather was already sick of it.

"Looks like break time is over." He said, standing as Dixon came over. "See you Wednesday."

"Prepare to lose, sucker." She called after him.

She didn't notice the men snicker as she taunted him.


	18. Chapter 18

_Ooh, I could put an X on a double letter word score – and another three letters would take it to triple word score!_

It wasn't until Heather raised an eyebrow at him that he realized he'd put down the word _sexual_.

"Uh," was all he could think of to say. She shrugged at his reaction, and immediately put down 'acquit' – with the a attached to the front of the word he'd just put down, turning it into 'asexual'. Incidentally placing the Q on a double letter score. Fortunately there wasn't a multiplier on the word score.

"How do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

"I looked forever for my word – and you put that down immediately."

"You mean you were thinking about that word for two whole minutes?" She smirked at him.

"Well, no, I was just looking for a good place for the X." It was the truth, but it sounded lame even to his ears. Looking for a distraction, he put down the first word he could, _sit. _Her next word was _face._ And, for good measure, she started humming the Monty Python song. _Oh, god, her mind's totally in the gutter. And now, so is mine. Shit._ The game went rapidly downhill from there. A _nip_, _slip,_ _areola_, _sperm, _and _risqué _later, they were both giggling like five year old boys saying 'underwear'. All of a sudden, it hit him what they were doing. They were flirting. Over Scrabble, of all things. And damn, it was fun.

It was nearly a shock when they ran out of letters, though the giggles didn't stop. He was about to suggest another game when his radio chirped at him. He told them he'd be there in a few minutes. He was disappointed, but it couldn't quite dampen his mood as he walked toward the door. True, he'd just lost (again), but somehow it didn't matter anymore. He might say otherwise, but he'd gladly lose every night if that meant playing with Heather. It was fun.

"So, uh, night."

"Night." Heather said, giving him a laughing smile. A smile that made him stop in his tracks. He hesitated, creating an awkward silence. Then, he took a deep breath, kissed Heather on the cheek and scooted out the door before she could say anything.


	19. Chapter 19

Beck stared up at the canvas of his tent, thinking about last night. He couldn't believe what he was doing. He shouldn't be doing it. It wasn't that he was interested that was wrong – he'd had that discussion with his wife when he'd made out his will. He knew she wouldn't mind. Of course, the assumption was that he'd be the one who died first. Still, it felt…unseemly. Too soon. Then a voice in his head cut in, and it sounded suspiciously like Ally's. _You're being ridiculous. It's been long enough; it's been nearly three years apart, two years since her death and a year since you first suspected. You deserve to be happy. And you can't let this pass you by._

No, what was wrong was that he was putting her in danger. Yes, she was already in danger from Constantino. But if they got involved, the ASA would take an interest in her as well. And that was far worse. Constantino was a pissed-off thug; the ASA were professionals. Hawkins without a conscience. He supposed that he should be somewhat glad that the ASA never actually had a chance to touch his family, even though they used his memory of them against him.

But he couldn't be the cause of anything happening to Heather. He just couldn't.

He'd talk to her in the morning.

"I thought Franks was coming to get me today."

"I needed to talk to you before you talked to anyone else."

"Why?"

"Last night, I, uh – "

"Don't be embarrassed. I rather liked it."

_You're not going to make this easy, are you?_

"I, well, I don't want to lead you on. I don't think I can - "

"What? Is it too soon? Is that it?"

_Yeah, that'll work._

"Yes." He hoped she bought it, he'd never been good at bluffing. Heather looked at him in disbelief. _Damn. Guess not. _Next thing he knew, he was kissing her, quite enthusiastically. He came to his senses and disengaged.

"Wha-?"

"Okay, now that we've established you're lying, what the hell is going on?"

Whoa. He was not expecting her to call his bluff quite like that.

"I don't want to hurt you, Heather. But I don't want anyone else to hurt you either." She looked at him; clearly he hadn't explained it right. "Heather, if we – you already have a target on your back. I don't want to put you in any danger." She huffed. "Any more danger." He amended.

"I've already got a bounty on my head, how much more danger could I be in?"

"Heather, there is a world of difference between Constantino and the ASA. The ASA will send professionals, not hired thugs." She looked at him, not following why they would send someone in the first place. "You know they've used my family against me before. I won't let it happen again." He was pleading with her, trying to get her to understand what he meant.

"So you're afraid you'll lose me like you lost them. Maybe it _is_ too soon."

"No." He saw the doubt on her face. "Really, it's not. I guess – I guess that, even though I only found out a few months ago, on some level, I've known for a lot longer. And, on that level, I mourned her. Even if I couldn't admit it to myself." He fell silent, looking at her without the mask he usually wore to hide his emotions.

Now she understood.

"I care about you. But that's why I can't let myself – if anyone found out how I felt - "

"Who says you have to tell them?"

"You didn't believe me before. Why should anyone else? I'm a terrible liar."

"But – " She couldn't imagine not seeing him anymore. And she knew it would have to be that way; trying to be just friends now would be torturous. "You can't – I mean, who would I play dirty scrabble with?"

"Emily?"

Heather laughed.

"I love her, but scrabble's not her thing. Besides, if you stopped visiting, that would cause people to wonder anyway."

"Why would I stop coming?"

"Really? You could go back to being 'just friends'?"

He stopped to consider her words before answering.

"I - I don't know. I just don't know what else to do." Against his will, his hand reached up to brush away a stray hair. "Give me some time to think about it, ok? This has all come up kind of fast for me. Whatever you do, don't tell anyone. We'll figure something out."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now, how's your poker face?"

"What?"

He looked at her face.

"Hmm…not so good. Perhaps you should stay home today."

"What? Why?"

"Heather, your face is too honest. You _look_ like something has happened. And when someone asks you what, you won't be able to lie effectively."

"What about you? You suck at lying too."

"Lying, yes. Keeping things to myself is something I'm better at. And I can't skip unless I'm deathly ill, I'm the CO. Even then, I'd be working from bed. You should stay home until we figure something out, and you have a chance to get used to the idea. At least to the point where it's not written all over your face."

She looked at him and eventually nodded, conceding the point. He hugged her, trying to burn the sensation into his mind in case this was his last chance.

"Tell me something." She asked his shoulder.

"What?"

"How in the hell did you make it to Major if you can't lie?"

He laughed at the question.

"Like I said, I'm better at keeping things to myself. So if a superior officer asks me what I think of their idiotic plan, I can keep my rude opinion to myself long enough to find a diplomatic way of suggesting an alternative. Since I usually have a point, they normally don't take offense. Those that do get rid of me and I eventually end up with someone with a brain. Also, my latest promotion was a field promotion for being sent out on my own like this."

He reluctantly broke the hug and gave her a long look.

"I need to go. I'll tell them you're not feeling well, that you're think you're coming down with something. Being so low on medicine, it's wise to be overly cautious."

"Come back tonight."

"I will. I'll even see if I can bring an apple for teacher to make her feel better." His comment had the desired effect, getting her to laugh. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as he turned to go.


	20. Chapter 20

Heather sat on her couch in her pajamas, mind reeling.

She felt…almost bipolar, veering from giddy excitement at the prospect of being together to despair that he might decide she was safer without him. She tried to keep in mind his own reluctance to walk away, but the longer the wait, the louder the doubtful voice in her head got. She jumped when she heard a knock on the door, and had to force herself to answer the door in something approaching a normal voice. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw it was him, and she scrambled to undo the locks.

"Heather." His voice was disapproving, and her heart sank. "You know you're supposed to wait for the passphrase before you open the door."

"Sorry." She mumbled. He saw her face and took pity on her.

"I suppose I'll forgive you for it. This time." He gestured for her to sit down with him. Just like he'd done a thousand times at work. That voice in her head was screaming. She stayed on her feet, unable to keep still. He shrugged.

"Ok. So I've thought about it. I still don't want to put you in danger. You're right that we can't just stop visiting. And that staying 'just friends' would be painfully unlikely. So, in my mind, that really only leaves one option." Heather was bobbing up and down on her toes at this point.

"…and that would be?"

"We keep visiting each other. And just sort of see where things go. No reason for anyone to think that anything has changed. They'll just continue to think we're scrabble addicts."

Heather launched herself at him and gave him a crushing hug. He chuckled into her hair and hugged her back.

"Careful, you'll bruise the apple."

"Don't care."

They stood there for a good thirty seconds before Edward spoke.

"You know, this is more fun without body armor on."

Heather looked at him, evaluating whether letting go of him would be worth it. She eventually relented, letting him take it off. He ended by taking out the now bruised apple with exaggerated flourish. She ignored the gesture, latching back on.

"ooof…I'm thinking it might have been safer to keep it on." He steered her over to the couch, thinking she might release the death grip if they were sitting down. She did ease up a bit, but she didn't let go.

"I hadn't pegged you for the clingy type."

"Well, it's your fault."

"How's that?"

"You kept me here all day in suspense. Now I'm not letting you go."

"I guess I can live with that." He said, pressing a kiss into her hair, trying to memorize the smell of it, the smell of _her,_ the feel of her in his arms. Heather was doing much the same, imprinting this moment into her mind so she would never ever forget it.

They couldn't have said how long this 'moment' actually lasted, but when a burst of static interrupted them, they both jumped.

"Major Beck, come in please." He sighed as he tried to reach for his radio; but her grip tightened, as if she could grab that moment back and not let it go.

"Heather, I have to get this."

"No." she said, sounding like a petulant child.

"Heather." He said firmly. "I'm sorry. But I can't ignore this, you know that." He tilted her face up to his so that she looked him in the eyes. She reluctantly conceded, letting him reach his radio, but not letting him go.

"I'm here. Go ahead."

"You asked to be notified when the courier arrived."

"Right. I'll be there in a few." He let go of the radio and put his arm back around her. "Heather, I – "

"I know."

He gave her a final squeeze before standing up.

"Thank you." He whispered, knowing full well how hard that was for her – he was feeling it himself. He felt her eyes on him as he put his gear back on, could feel the effort it took to keep from dragging him back. He felt the pull, too, as she walked him to the door. They stared at each other.

"Be careful."

"Eat that apple."

"Come back"

"I will."

His hand had found its way up to her cheek of its own accord. He kissed her cheek (he didn't know if he could get out of the door if she could kiss him back) and tore himself away, Heather holding onto his hand until he closed the door behind him.


	21. Chapter 21

Heather was sitting at the table, picking at the food that had been delivered to her by a friendly soldier. She hadn't had to put on too much of a front; Edward had given him orders to simply leave the food between the first and second doors. No reason to increase the possibility of germ transmission. His men were shorthanded as it was. She knew that because there was a note from Ed along with the food, explaining that he couldn't come by himself for a day or two, having previously only come over about once a week for scrabble, and occasionally escorting her home. However, he said that Private Hampton wasn't the nosy sort, so if she wanted to send him a (sealed) note, that was probably okay.

She sighed. This was going to be torturous. Not as torturous as not having him, but close. She hated the idea of this cloak-and-dagger stuff, and not just because she was terrible at it. She'd always lived her life in the open; if she felt something, she said it. She was an honest person who lived within a few limits she placed on herself – and, until now, none that others had placed on her. _You better hope that the US wins this thing with full civil liberties intact, girl. You won't survive under an Orwellian regime._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Before she even said anything, she looked out the peephole. _Great. Just great. _It was Emily – and Mrs. Green. She might have been able to convince Emily that she was sick (through the door, so as not to reveal her terrible poker face), but Mrs. Green would want to be helpful and offer nursely/motherly advice. And she wasn't sick.

So she would pretend to be sound asleep. No, she'd always been a light sleeper. In the shower. She was in the shower, and therefore couldn't hear them at the door. She went to the bathroom so that she could be (technically) be honest when she said that she was in the shower at the time. Hopefully she was better at half-truths than lies.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later when she heard the door open.

"Heather? You okay? Where are – oh there you are."

Heather sputtered in shock. How in the hell had they gotten in?

"Emily?" she choked out.

"Sorry. You didn't answer your door or the radio, and we were worried you'd passed out or something."

"How - ?"

"We flagged down a nearby soldier, and he called Beck." Ok, that made sense. He had the other key to her apartment for security reasons.

"Hi." He called from the living room.

Heather, at this point out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, stuck her head around the door frame into the main living area in true consternation. Everyone was looking at her, which was good, because the look on Edward's face was both apologetic and amused. He gestured for her to play along. Mrs. Green, however, got right to business.

"There you are. Come here, let me take a look at you. You don't look that bad."

"I, uh, feel a little better after a shower."

When she didn't sit down as requested, Gail walked over and started to examine her anyway. Heather flinched a bit.

"You mind if I get dressed first?"

"Oh." Gail glanced over her shoulder at the major, who was now pointedly looking elsewhere. "Right."

"Uh, my PJs are over there." She said, pointing at the bed. They were hastily retrieved for her.

A minute later, Heather was dressed and sitting on the couch being examined.

"What are your symptoms?"

"Well, I'm just feeling really run down – tired, you know, a little weak. When I felt my forehead, it was bit warm, so I stayed home." She kept her symptoms nice and vague (and unverifiable by instruments) and hoped she could get away with it.

"Well, you don't have a temperature, but you did just get out of the shower. And you do appear a bit flushed." _Flustered would be more accurate, but whatever works. _She noticed a bit of relief on Edward's face too. "It's probably just a bug, and you caught it early. You're doing the right thing with the bed rest and if the showers make you feel better, go for it."

"Thanks."

"What are you eating?" she asked, looking around.

"Nothing special. I get deliveries from the mess tent. Edward did get me an apple. Been drinking a lot, though." That got him a look of approval.

"Any more fruit where that came from?" Gail asked him.

"I'll see what I can do."

Heather decided this was a good time to play pathetic and scrunched up on the couch like she was sleepy.

"All right, we'll leave you so you can rest. Let us know if you need anything."

"I will."

She watched through slitted eyes as Edward walked out behind her surprise guests. As he locked the door behind them, he looked back and winked at her, mouthing the words, _'good job'._

After she heard the last lock click, she released a big sigh and hit the pillow a few times.

_I can't believe I pulled that off._


	22. Chapter 22

Heather was sitting at Bailey's, nursing a glass of water while waiting for her food when she saw Emily come in – alone for once. She called her over and demanded she stay for lunch.

"Sorry, can't, just picking up lunch to go."

"For you and Jake?"

"And Eric and Gray and Hawkins and Jimmy and Bill."

Heather made a show of looking out at Emily's ride, a mare from the Green's stable.

"You sure she can carry that much?"

"Her saddlebags have been emptied expressly to carry food." Emily replied, taking a drink of the water that Mary had given her.

"So how're things with you?" Heather asked "It's been forever since I saw you."

"Sorry, I've just been busy."

"With Jake?" Heather smirked.

"Well, yes."

"Is he ever going to propose?"

"I don't know. If he doesn't ask me soon, I'll ask him."

"Or you could just withhold sex. That usually works."

"Hey, I have needs too."

"Well, whatever it takes. Hey, I heard there was some drama over at the school."

"Uh, yeah. I got into trouble for, well, drug dealing."

"Drug dealing?"

"The pill."

A laugh sputtered out of Heather.

"The pill?"

"It just sort of evolved. One girl had trouble getting to the clinic, so I helped her out. Word spread, and other girls came to me - they didn't want to go to the med center, and l was able to deliver it discreetly. It wasn't a secret, but it's not like I advertised it, you know?"

"And everything was fine until the principal found out."

"Well, he actually knew, but he ignored it until one of the parents found out and made a big stink."

"Her parents didn't know? You didn't ask?"

"She's seventeen! And I do encourage them to be…discreetly monogamous, at least. I really feel bad for the girls. Now they'll have to find a new supplier." Then a thought hit her. "Hey, would you - ?"

"Getting to the Sheriff's office is just as hard as getting to the clinic."

"Yes, but it's not the clinic. They have legitimate errands to run to the sheriff's office. And since you don't work at the school anymore - "

"It could still be dicey." She sighed. "Let me think about it. Pissing off the local parents could impact how well I can do my job. Maybe I could only give to girls 18 or over. They could in turn give it to their friends, but then it wouldn't be on my head."

"I'll have Gail talk to you."

Heather chuckled.

"Should've known she'd be your supplier." She took another sip of the water in front of her. "You going to lose your job over it?"

"No. I got a public reprimand, but there's a limited supply of teachers at the end of the world. My job's secure. Well, unless you decide to return to teaching."

"That seems unlikely. I like my job."

"Hmph."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I just know you love teaching. And that teaching doesn't usually result in death threats." thinking better of her comments, she added "Well, unless you deal drugs. Her dad was pretty pissed."

Heather snickered again.

"Wish I could have seen that." She worked to banish the mental image. "It's not really better than teaching, just different. It's still satisfying – I get to do useful things. I even get to tinker as part of my job description. With real tools, not safety scissors."

"I'm sure there's a lot of broken-down humvees down in the office." Emily deadpanned.

"I'll have you know I fixed the coffee maker just last week. And before that, the lock on the filing cabinet."

"Are you IT as well?"

"For little things, yeah, but ones and zeros aren't really my forte. I can set things up, but if they're actually broken…I'm not a programmer or a hacker. Most complicated thing I did recently was use the wireless network to print from Beck's computer."

"He didn't know how to print?"

Heather giggled.

"Print, yes. I had to set up the wireless connection to the printer, though. Sometimes I think he welcomed the EMP. Not really a computer guy. Occasionally into percussive repair."

"Percussive repair?"

"Whacking malfunctioning equipment until it starts working again."

"Jake does that all the time. Does it ever work?"

"I've seen it work in a couple of instances, where the issue was probably a loose wire. By and large, though, no."

"I'll tell Jake that. Better yet, _you_ tell him. I, apparently, have no clue when it comes to fixing things, so he doesn't listen to me."

"I don't think even that will work. I tell Beck that, and his response is 'well, it makes me feel better'. And then he whacks it again, smiles, and says 'See?'. Freakin' smart-ass."

"Whoa, he smiles? Hell hath frozen over."

"It's my personal theory that hell's normal state is ice cold, and that the flames are there to taunt the residents."

"Seriously, though. His face didn't crack in half? I've never seen him smile. _Ever_. Neither has Jake."

"Then you need to tell him a good joke. He _is_ human, you know."

"Here's your orders, girls. Emily, tell Eric that if he tracks mud in the door one more time, he's sleeping on the couch."

"I will," Emily chuckled "See you around, Heather."

Heather nodded around a mouthful of food, waving as Emily walked out the door.


	23. Chapter 23

Heather was a little high-strung on the way home. This was their first date scrabble game since they had decided to pursue this. As much as she wanted to grab him once inside the door, she had the impression that he wanted to court her first. How he was going to do that under these circumstances, she had no idea.

She looked at him sideways. He showed no indication of anticipation or nervousness, just watchfulness. He was always watchful on the way home; he took escorting her home seriously. He must be like this out on patrol, she mused. She'd noticed that he changed whenever he put his helmet on. He became very quiet, very watchful. He spoke little, and when he did, his voice was very calm and certain, a man whose focus was solely on the mission. What he'd told her at the memorial service was evident. Wearing his helmet, he was the soldier, nothing else. It was only after he took it off that you got to see the real person.

He'd noticed her looking at him.

"What is it?"

"Just thinking I like you better without your helmet on."

He just nodded. She held in a sigh. It was just the way he was; she'd have to wait until he took off the helmet to have a decent conversation.

At the door, Edward went through the usual rigmarole of sweeping the apartment…only to find himself standing in water.

"Uh, Heather, I think you have a leak somewhere."

She stepped in from the entryway.

"Damn." She followed the puddle to the kitchen sink, finding the problem. "Well, it'll be messy, but I can fix it in about half an hour. Less if you help me," she said, flashing him her most appealing smile. _We'll just tell everyone it took two hours._

Beck knew better; he'd noticed that Heather usually underestimated her repair estimates. Not because she was inefficient, or overconfident, but because she enjoyed herself so much that she lost track of time.

Before he could say anything, she'd dragged out the toolbox and had installed herself under the sink.

"Could you pass me the wrench, please?"

"This isn't exactly helping my ego, you know."

"What?" She looked at him as he passed it to her.

"Sitting here, handing my girlfriend tools while _she_ fixes the plumbing." _Even if the view is spectacular_, he thought to himself, taking the opportunity to ogle her yet again. Sitting with the edge of the cabinet under her shoulders did interesting things to her figure. Heather chuckled, the sound echoing in the cabinet.

"Well don't turn in your man card just yet. I'm having trouble loosening this nut."

"Ooh! Lemme!"

"A little more manly than opening the pickle jar, huh? FYI, it's dirty down here, you may want to take off your jacket."

Heather scooted over a little as he ducked into the cabinet next to her and turned onto his back in his t-shirt. It was only when he reached over to pull on the wrench that she gasped. _Crap, forgot to warn her about that *before* I took off my jacket_. She traced one of the many white lines on his forearm.

"What happened?"

"IED. I got lucky."

"Lucky?" Her voice was doubtful.

"Whoever made it was either low on explosives or incompetent. There was enough force behind the blast to give me a bunch of nasty-looking lacerations on my arms and legs, but not enough to cause major injuries. Shrapnel sliced, but didn't puncture. So, yeah, lucky. It looks terrible, but…" He again focused his attention on the stubborn nut. "What did they use to put this together? A pneumatic wrench?" he muttered in frustration. Heather sighed and wriggled out of the cabinet.

"I'll go get some WD-40."

"_Now_ you get WD-40?"

"I've been hoarding the stuff, I'm down to my last can. Besides, you seemed so eager to show off."

Edward didn't quite know what to say to that; he was too distracted by the sight over Heather bending over the tool box. He lifted himself up on the stuck wrench to get a better view – and gasped when the wrench was no longer stuck, releasing a flood of very cold water on him.

"Ed!" Heather spun around. Upon seeing the look on his face she had to laugh. "Guess we don't need the WD-40 after all."

"Laugh it up," he growled. "This water is _cold_."

"Sorry." she snorted "I'll get you a towel and a clean shirt. I think I have one that fits you."

"As long as it's dry."

"As long as it's dry," she muttered to herself, turning to rummage through her drawers. "he's gonna regret that. Now where is my pink betty boop sleep shirt…Aha, this'll do."

"Here, I go-" Heather stopped in her tracks, frozen in place. She'd come back with the towel and shirt and found Edward's back turned to her as he took off the wet shirt, showcasing the muscles of his neck and shoulders. He turned around at her voice, giving her a good view of his bare chest. _Oh my._

She gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? She'd never been the type to swoon over mere muscle. Even Evan Jackson from high school, who had been even more generously sculpted, hadn't done anything for her, even repulsed her. Of course, that may have to do with the fact that he was the stereotypical bodybuilder – he spent all his time in the gym perfecting his body because, well, he didn't have much in the way of brains.

That, however, was not what she was looking at. What was in front of her was simply a byproduct of daily hard work, and somehow that made all the difference in the world.

"Heather?" Edward's voice snapped her out of her reverie. Whereupon she realized she'd been staring for a good ten seconds. Raising her gaze, she found gentle amusement. "You okay?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Um, here ya g-go." Her stuttering caused his gentle smile to turn into a smirk. She could think of one way to wipe that smirk off his face, and the mere thought of it turned her face even redder than she was sure it already was. She could tell it was spreading, too, because that smirk was fast turning into a grin. _Ah, the hell with it_. She thought to herself, and launched herself at him, towel forgotten. He started to chuckle as she landed in his arms, but she stopped that right away by covering his lips with hers. He was nothing but willing, kissing her back just as enthusiastically as she was kissing him, pressing her against him with those strong arms. He didn't release his crushing embrace when they came up for air, but the smirk was definitely gone, replaced with an intense, smoldering gaze that was impossible to look away from.

"You know," he panted in a low voice, "now your shirt's all wet too."

"Oops." She breathed in reply. "Guess I'll have to take it off."

"Here, allow me."


	24. Chapter 24

As they lay there, resting, Heather remembered something.

"Eddy, what does _caliente_ mean?"

"Hot."

"And _te amo_?"

"I love you."

Heather couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him.

"Does it bother you when I speak Spanish?"

"God, no. I find it _muy caliente._" She remembered the other time he'd spoken Spanish to her. "Do you save it for special occasions?"

"It's not really a matter of saving it. I just tend to revert in certain situations, usually when I'm upset, or when I – well, you know. "

A light bulb went off in Heather's head.

"So you weren't actually completely incoherent when you were drunk that night. I just couldn't understand you."

"It could very well have been incoherent Spanglish, at that point." He paused, tightening his hold on her. "I don't tell you 'thank you' enough." He kissed her, then groaned reluctantly. "I have to go."

"No you don't." she said tightening her grip.

"Yes I do." He said, pushing off the covers.

"No you don't." as he removed her hands from his neck.

"Yes I do." As he slid out of bed.

Heather surrendered with a sigh, and watched from the bed with regret as Ed put on his uniform.

"Wish you could stay."

"Me too." He pulled out a couple of wildflowers from his jacket, which were noticeably the worse for wear. "I, uh, meant to give them to you earlier, before..." he shrugged"sorry they're not in better shape."

"Thanks." Heather gave him a sweet smile.

"I know it's not much – I've never been good at romance."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's true."

"No way."

"I once asked Allison on a date to a football game. Once there, I bought her a foam finger. She endured it with good grace, though. Wasn't until I told my mom where we went that I realized it wasn't a date occasion."

Heather giggled.

"I take it that wasn't your first date?"

"No, thank god. She wouldn't have said yes."

"How did you meet Allison?"

"I had just been transferred for training to Fort McCoy in Wisconsin, right before the holidays. Colonel Edmondson was a friend of my fathers', so he invited me over for Thanksgiving. It was kind of awkward, because he was a superior officer as well as a family friend, but his daughter was home from college."

"Love at first sight?"

"Yup. For me, at least." He laughed, pulling his vest on. "I think her father left us alone on purpose. He wasn't fond of her then-boyfriend."

"Well, you're certainly an upgrade."

"Anyway, come Christmas, she was single…" He moved to the door and Heather followed him almost unwillingly. She was rewarded with a hug, though it was impeded by his gear.

"'night."

"Te amo."

"Te amo too."

"Yo también te quiero" he corrected her. "Buenas noches."


	25. Chapter 25

It was a quiet walk home. Major Beck was morose; Heather found that the events of the day had taken a toll on her as well. When word came in that New Bern had taken out an entire squad with a bomb, Beck turned on his heel and slammed his office door shut. He'd sat in his shuttered office for a good 15 minutes. Nobody, even Heather, had dared enter. He'd eventually emerged, all business. But everyone could tell he was still feeling it; they had given him a wide berth the rest of the day. He hadn't even asked Heather if she was ready to go home; he'd just stood by her desk and waited for her. The walk home was not just quiet, but tense.

Beck opened Heather's door, gun drawn, and swept the residence. Heather closed the door and turned to address him.

"Eddy – "

She found herself in his arms, his face buried in her hair.

"Oh, Heather."

They stood there, just holding each other close for a time, trying to come to terms with this. Edward finally released a shuddering breath, ruffling Heather's hair.

"Well make it through this, Eddy. Somehow."

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

He leaned back to look at her with tired eyes. The pain was still there, but it had retreated somewhat. He was in more control of himself now. She kissed him. It wasn't a romantic kiss, just comforting. An affirmation of life in the face of death. Edward broke the kiss reluctantly, giving her a final squeeze.

"I have to go now. I have a few letters to write."

She knew what those letters would say. She knew that he knew those letters would likely never reach the intended next-of-kin, but he insisted on writing them anyway. It would be a long night for him.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Night, Heather." He put his helmet back on. Heather put her hand on his shoulder.

"Night. Don't stay up too late."

He nodded as he left. Heather watched him go with sad eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

"Here, hang on a sec and I'll get a cup of hot tea for you, then you can be on your way. It should give you enough to get home." She puttered around in the kitchen for a bit; fortunately, her little water boiler was simple enough to have survived the EMP and produced a quick cup of hot water. She put a second cup in for herself. "Here you go, Ed – "

He was sitting on her couch. Sound asleep. Heather snorted. Well, she'd give him a few minutes before she woke him up. Sitting down, she sipped the cup of tea in her hand. She'd give him the fresher cup when he woke up. She was nearly done with her cup, listening to his soft snores, when his radio buzzed. _Well, I guess I won't need to be the one to wake him up_.

"_Beck, come in please. Major Beck, please respond."_

Wow. He didn't even twitch. Well, that left her.

"Heather here."

"_Heather, do you know where he is?"_

"Yup. I'm staring right at him."

"_Is he okay?"_

"He's fine. He just made the mistake of sitting down on my couch."

"_What?"_

She held the radio up to his nose and keyed the radio. The response was an amused voice.

"_Sorry about that, Heather. Want me to send someone by to get him?"_

"He's not hurting anything. I'll just send him along when he wakes up"

"_That may be a while." _ Heather raised an eyebrow at nobody. _Really?_

"How long?"

"_Overnight, most likely_."

"So… he's done this before?"

"_Every so often, so long as he's not on the front lines, he does this. He works himself to exhaustion, then collapses for ten hours. He usually makes it to his cot, but I'm pretty sure your couch is way more comfortable_."

"Hmm."

"_So should I send someone? I can have a jeep sent out."_

"It's not that big a deal. Not big enough to spend precious gas on it."

"_10-4. Have a good night, Heather."_

Heather put down the radio and considered how to move him to the bed, so he wouldn't have a crick in his neck. _Riiight. The opportunity to curl up next to him has nothing to do with it._

He was still softly snoring when Heather woke up, and he didn't respond when she poked him. Well, she still had to go to work. Still, maybe she could leave him a parting gift…

Beck chastised himself as he hustled to the office. Spending the night at Heather's house – what was he thinking? How was he going to explain that? He was so pissed at himself that he didn't notice the repressed smiles that came with the salutes he was getting.

He was in his office, digging out his extra uniform, when Captain Dunne knocked on his open door.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he turned around to face her. She had a small smile; hopefully she wasn't thinking that -

"Heather's couch was very comfortable, I take it?" Beck nodded _At least Heather had enough sense to put that out there right away._ "Good."She hesitated, then spoke again. "Sir, do you remember those old Captain Morgan ads?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason." Her smile got a little broader as she turned away. _What was that about?_ He wondered. No matter. He gathered his things.

He had just raised his razor to his face when he noticed it. Red sharpie.

"_HEATHER!"_

Captain Dunne looked around when she heard the outburst from the restroom. Heather had, wisely, taken herself off to Bailey's for a 'snack' when Beck had walked through the door. Now the major stormed out of the bathroom, headed straight for her empty desk.

"She's not here, sir."

"Where is she?"

"Bailey's."

She watched as he stormed off in search of Heather. Whatever he did, at least at Bailey's Heather would have plenty of witnesses in her favor.

Mary became aware of a shift in the atmosphere as she was wiping down the bar. The door had been thrown open, and everyone had fallen quiet as the Major scanned the crowd looking for someone. That didn't last, however, as his appearance fully registered. It was just a muffled titter at first; then a snort broke the dam, and everyone burst out laughing, Jake's shrieks standing out as he doubled over from laughing so hard.

Beck spotted who he came for and moved decisively in her direction. Having been spotted, Heather high-tailed it out of the room, a huge grin on her face.

"Run, Heather, run!"

He caught her, of course, cornering her in the storage room.

Edward was ranting at her. He hadn't yelled at her this much when he'd arrested her. But she didn't – couldn't – listen to the words She couldn't get beyond the red mustache and goatee. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing.

"- dammit, stop that!"

"Sorry." She said, not sounding anything of the sort. "But – " she shrugged, laughter spilling out of her.

"Very, funny, I know. I'll have you know I don't appreciate looking like an old Captain Morgan ad."

"I was actually going for a 'Mirror, Mirror' look – y'know, the evil twin."

Despite himself, his lips twitched.

"Still. And," he added softly, looking at the door, "It could blow our cover."

"Not really. _Friends_ are known for drawing on passed-out friends. Besides," she smirked, "It is pretty convincing proof that you really did pass out at my house, quashing any rumors that you were over there for…other reasons," _no matter how much we wish it were true,_ "before they even have a chance to start."

"I suppose." He admitted. His face turned sheepish. "I guess you got me."

His hand started to rise to her face in apology when Mary knocked on the door.

"Everything okay in there?"

"Yes." Edward answered, then Heather spoke up, opening the door.

"Do you have any alcohol?"

"Not for drinking, sorry."

"No, just enough to get the marker off his face."

"Maybe. Sure you don't want to leave it?"

"I think it's done its job, thanks."

Eric walked into the men's room at Bailey's to find Major Beck scrubbing at his face, the strong scent of alcohol in the air. Apparently the major had had a few drinks.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, but apparently passing out on Heather's couch turns you into your evil twin."

"What?"

Beck turned around to show the remaining red ink. Eric chortled as he realized the actual situation.

"So that's what all the commotion was about."

"Yeah, I'm never going to live this down. Not quite sure how to get her back for this, but I'm working on it."

Eric laughed.

"Good luck with that."


	27. Chapter 27

They were walking along main street outside of Bailey's when the whistle of incoming artillery startled them. Beck shoved Heather to the ground, landing on top of her to shield her from the explosions. As the shelling continued, he shifted, tucking her head securely under his arm.

Heather saw stars as his fully-armored weight landed on her. The stars slowly faded, but were immediately replaced by fireballs as the mortars began to hit. She felt his weight shift above her, shielding her head. The shift also let her breathe a little easier. The thunderous sounds rolled over them. When they finally ceased, Heather moved to get up, but Edward didn't budge.

"Edward, move. I can barely breathe." When he didn't respond, "Ed?" Suddenly she became aware of a warm, sticky sensation on her legs. He was hurt! She heaved herself out from under him and sat at his side, trying to rouse him. She glanced at his injuries; his helmet had been hit by a sizable piece of shrapnel, knocking him out, but a smaller, sharper piece had hit his leg. She hoped it hadn't hit the artery, but with the amount of blood she was seeing, it was possible.

She turned his head, slapping his cheek. She spoke to him, begging him to wake up, her voice strained with worry.

"Eddy. Eddy, wake up, let me know you're still here. Come on, Eddy, talk to me."

"Heather…" his voice was faint.

"Eddy!" Her voice was softened by relief. She smiled at him, a weak, worried smile, but a smile. The corners of his mouth twitched in response.

"…te amo..." He passed out again.

"Eddy, no, come back. Come back."

Next thing she knew, Gail was beside her, having run out of the bar once the shelling had stopped. "Help me. He won't wake up." Gail immediately moved to stop the bleeding.

"Heather, get me a rope, a belt, something, I need to make a tourniquet."

Heather detached the strap from her purse and handed it over. She looked on, feeling helpless as Gail worked on him. The bleeding slowed considerably, though it didn't stop. The immediate danger contained, Gail turned to the bloody woman at her side.

"Heather, you ok?"

"Yeah, though I'll probably have some impressive bruises in the morning."

"You sure you're ok? You look like you're having difficulty breathing."

"Yeah, well, being tackled by a fully-armored soldier kinda knocks the wind out of you. I'm fine. Just take care of him."

By this time, medical personnel had started to arrive to take the wounded to the hospital. Gail moved on to the next victim as corpsmen lifted Beck to the vehicle. Heather got in with him, glad nobody challenged her.

The hospital was a madhouse. Heather was unceremoniously shoved aside when she tried to follow the gurney past the waiting room. She was upset at this, but then recovered, realizing there was probably no room back there. And that if she insisted on accompanying him, people might begin to wonder just how good a 'friend' she was.

So she sat on a chair in the waiting room and rested her head in her hands. She heard the parade of wounded come past her, but she had no eyes for any of it. At one point a nurse tried to check her out; Heather waved her away, saying the blood wasn't hers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gail came out into the waiting room and found her. Heather hadn't even noticed her arrival.

"Well, he's going to make it."

"Can I see him?"

"You can't talk to him, he's asleep."

Heather took this as a yes and stood up. Her jeans were stiff with dried blood. She did her best to ignore it as Gail led her to the room where he was sleeping. The sight of him in a hospital gown and hooked up to an IV wasn't exactly pleasant for Heather, but it was a relief to see him anyway. She sat down to wait.

"He'll probably be out for another hour." Gail told her. She nodded. "Perhaps you'd like to clean up while you wait? We've got a shower downstairs."

"I don't have a change of clothes."

"I'll get you some. Come on."

Edward felt a delicate hand grasp his. It seemed to be the only clear thing in the haze of his mind. He squeezed back, not wanting to lose that contact. He heard a voice, but it was distant and indistinct. Then he felt other sensations, though they too seemed far away. But then a familiar voice cut through the fog.

"How's it look?"

_Heather._

He forced his eyes open and found her standing there, holding his hand. She noticed his movement and smiled.

"Hey there." Her voice sounded wonderful. But then he noticed she was wearing hospital clothes.

"Are you ok?"

"Am I ok? What kind of a question is that? You're the one hooked up to an IV."

He blinked and looked at her again, and it registered that she was wearing scrubs, not a gown – a visitor, not a patient.

"Oh. Ow!" He looked down to find Gail checking his wounds.

"Sorry, Major. Just about done." She replaced the bandages and pulled the sheet back over his leg. She handed him a glass of juice. "So, Heather, is there something you and 'Eddy' here would like to tell me?" They looked at her in surprise. "Oh, come off it. How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Not long after the ambush at my house." Heather admitted. "Please tell me we're not _that_ obvious."

"Normally, no. But I saw you two when the mortars came; his very first instinct was to protect _you_. Your interaction since then has been pretty friendly. That was enough to make me suspect. The clincher was when it became obvious you've seen him with his pants off."

Heather spluttered at the last sentence; Edward choked on his juice. His stared at Mrs. Green in disbelief, shocked at how forward she was.

"Major, your scars are some of the most impressive I've seen in years. And she didn't even glance at them."

He looked chagrined.

"Ok, so you caught us. I don't suppose you could keep it to yourself?"

"Of course I can. Though I'm not sure why; a little office romance isn't a big deal. Especially these days."

"That's not the issue. People were trying to kill her just because she worked for me. Now –" He looked at Heather, his hand tightening on hers. Gail saw the very real worry in his eyes.

"I understand."

"Thank you."

Heather shifted on her feet. She grimaced at a twinge of pain.

"Heather, you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, just some bruises. In the shape of body armor."

"Sorry about that."

"Well, under the circumstances, I've decided to forgive you."

"I hate to cut in, but if you want to keep your relationship covert, you might want to limit your visit to a few more minutes. You've already stayed longer than usual. And don't assume nobody can see you through the blinds."

"Damn. I was hoping for a kiss."

In response, Heather lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it, using her body to shield the act from the window.

"There you go." He smiled; Gail laughed. "Now I guess I should go. I'll be back tomorrow."

"You'd better. I hate sitting in hospitals all by myself." He leaned over and spoke in a mock conspiratorial voice. "Bring me some real food."

"Oh no you don't. Now get out of here, he needs his rest."


	28. Chapter 28

Gail smiled to herself as she came into Beck's hospital room. Heather was here, of course. She usually was here at least once a day, although there was always a pretext like 'delivering some memos' or 'getting his signature on a couple of things'. But today was a little different. Today was Wednesday, and Heather had showed up with her scrabble board. Injury or no, Scrabble night was apparently non-negotiable.

"Hey there, you two." Heather jumped a little bit, and she sensed more than saw their hands retreat each other from under the table. She sighed and closed the door behind her. "It's just me, lovebirds. Also, Heather, you've got to work on your acting if this is going to hold up." Heather colored slightly – and was he _smirking_? Gail blinked and looked again. _Nah. Just my imagination._

"Well, don't mind me. Just checking on things." She told them, prepping a new IV bag to hang as they resumed their conversation.

"So what happened after that? Did you tell him to go to hell?"

Heather laughed.

"Close. I told him to kiss my ass."

"I'm hurt. I thought I was the only one who was allowed to do that."

"Ohh, jealousy."

"Absolutely. I like kissing your ass." He used the combined cover of the table and Gail's body to grope said portion of Heather's anatomy.

"I know I said 'don't mind me', but this is a bit much." Gail interjected.

"Sorry. We'll shelve all talk of ass-kissing until you leave."

"And actual ass-kissing until I get him home."

"Oooh, promise?"

"If you're a good boy."

"Honestly. You two are too much. I'm hanging this bag and getting the hell out of here. And keep your hands to yourself. I can't cover for you if you tear any stitches."

"You are _no_ fun. When am I getting out of here, anyway?

"Another day, probably. And I should point out that you won't be in suitable shape for bodyguarding for another week, so the escort ploy would be rather thin."

"You're such a killjoy."

"Reality sucks, what can I say?" Gail said as she moved over to switch out the bags. "Damn, Heather!" she exclaimed, staring at her scrabble rack.

Q U I E T S T

"Crap. Does she have _quiz_ or something again?"

"Not exactly. Although, the board is pretty crowded, you might get lucky if she can't find a place to put it." She looked at the score. "Not that it matters. Heather, you're supposed to be _nice_ to sick people."

"Hey, it's his leg that's injured, not his brain."

"Well, I'm outta here. Have fun."

Gail fought down a smile as she returned to the nurses' station. About a minute later, she heard a howl from his room. The other nurse started to stand in alarm, but Gail held up a hand.

"Sounds like Heather _did_ empty her rack." Stacy stared at her in confusion. "It's a 50-point bonus."

"Ah."


	29. Chapter 29

Beck was sitting in his office, doing paperwork. _About the only thing that I'm _allowed_ to do right now. _ He sighed yet again. He hated limited duty. Among other things.

"Hey there!" Heather, of course, being insufferably cheerful.

"Well, hello there. We're awfully chipper this morning."

"It's Wednesday. And you know what that means."

"You kick my ass again in scrabble."

"That too. I also recall that I made you a deal last scrabble night. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain and be a good boy."

He grinned.

"And, what precisely, do you mean by 'good'?"

"Well, no moping. And don't whine about _your_ escort." She smirked at the situation. Because of his injury and his position, _he_ was being escorted around everywhere. And she'd be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the heck out of his objections to an escort. Served him right. "And you do have to follow doctor's orders. Even if I really don't want to."

He cocked his head, 'considering'.

"I suppose that sounds like a fair deal."

"See you at five, then."

Heather supposed they looked ridiculous like this. Seeing as there were two escorts, one was in front and one was behind. Four people, headed for a scrabble game for two.

"Do we look as ridiculous as I feel? I mean, all this over a scrabble game." she asked Edward.

"Probably. Although I'm tempted to have one of these impartial gentleman inspect the tiles."

"Are you implying I _cheat_? And I thought you were an officer and a gentleman!"

"Nothing of the sort. All I'm saying is that you always seem to get the Q. I start to wonder if you've got it marked somehow."

"Not so. In fact, I distinctly remember you made _quip _just last week."

"And the reason you 'distinctly remember it' is that you first made it _equip_, and then _equipment._ You got more points off that Q than I did."

There was an unconvincing snort-turned-cough from behind them. Heather smirked, and Beck ignored them both.

"Not my fault you don't know how to get the most from your letters." She said. "Oh, good, we're here. Now you can stop whining and lose with good grace."

They waited for the amused bodyguards to clear the apartment. Edward shooed them out the door – they had jokingly offered their services as referees/judges – as Heather set out the game.

"God, I thought they'd never leave." Edward said, coming up behind her and steering her to the couch. At the last second, he pushed her face down on the cushions.

"Hey!" she yelped in surprise.

"I do believe we had a deal." He said, reaching for her waistband.


	30. Chapter 30

Heather sat snuggled up against Edward. The Scrabble game had been short-lived; after a week of no more than discreetly holding hands the prospect of curling up together was irresistable. They had made idle chit chat before falling silent a few minutes ago.

Then a thought struck Heather.

"How did you end up with a name like Edward Beck, anyway?"

"What?" he asked, startled by the question.

"Well, you look more like an Eduardo."

He chuckled.

"I was named after my grandfather. He married a nice local girl he met while stationed at Fort Buchanan. My dad did the same thing. So I'm three-quarters Puerto Rican. And for the record, my middle name is Marco."

"And you broke the tradition."

"Well, not really. I just got stationed in Kansas instead." He said, pulling her closer.

"Puerto Rico, huh? Must be nice down there right about now."

"Yeah. Nice and warm." He pulled the blanket up higher. "I'll have to take you there. And you can meet my family."

"So you've heard from them?"

"Not in months. They survived the initial attack, obviously, but if I know my father, he came out of retirement shortly thereafter. My brothers were on leave at the time, so I'm sure they've been redeployed. Where, I don't know.

"Which army?"

"Columbus, most likely, given the geography."

"Well, I hope so. It'd be nice to have the family all on the same side." She paused. "It must be hard on your mom."

"Yeah. She was so thrilled when Dad finally retired, and not six months later – "

"Is your sister at least with her?"

"Yeah. Good thing, too."

"Why?" Heather asked, somehow knowing that the answer was going to be bad.

"Her husband was stationed at San Diego. Fortunately, she'd taken the kids with her to the anniversary party."

"Your parent's anniversary, I take it?"

"Their 40th. I wanted to go, but I was in Afghanistan at the time. And honestly, in our family, three out of four home at any given time is pretty good."

"Having half your family in the military must be tough."

"It's worst on my mother, I think. I grew up in it, so I don't really know anything else. We do what we do, you know?" He paused, lifting Heather's chin to look her in the eyes. "You do know what you're getting into, right?"

"Well, not firsthand. But I think I've got an idea. Can't say I'm thrilled about it, but it's too late now. I'll take what I can get."

"And what are you getting?"

"You. That's enough."

"Even if I'm not always there?"

"Just promise you'll come back."

"I'll do my best." Then he snorted in dry amusement. "You know, I could ask the same of you."

"What?"

"I'm not the only one who has a dangerous job." His arm tightened around her, and her she squeezed his hand in reply.

"Make you a deal?" she said. "I'll be careful. You do the same."

"Deal." He agreed, leaning over and kissing her.

"So tell me more about your family."

"Well, I'm the oldest, then there's Jorge and Philip and finally Maria. We all answer to both versions of our names, English or Spanish." He said, addressing Heather's earlier concern. "Jorge is a captain, Philip is a lieutenant, Dad's a two-star, Mom is an officer's wife and Maria's the princess of the family…"


	31. Chapter 31

Gail was talking to her son, the groom. After all this time, Jake was going to make an honest woman out of Emily. She'd just finished fiddling with his lapel (again) when Jake saw Major Beck and Captain Dunne enter. Beck was in (vintage) dress uniform; Dunne was in a dress.

"What are they doing here?" Jake asked, nodding minutely in their direction while she started to fuss with Jake's hair.

"I invited them."

"Why?"

"Diplomacy. And basic politeness." Jake huffed, but let it go. Instead he intercepted her hand.

"Mom! Will you please _stop_ already? I'm not ten years old."

"Sorry. It's a mom thing." She told him, visibly restraining herself by turning away. Then she chuckled.

"What?"

"I just discovered an effective way to halt a military advance." She said, pointing to Beck and his companion. They had seemingly frozen in place, staring at something. Jake followed their gaze. He found Heather there. The fact that she was there wasn't surprising, she was Emily's maid of honor, after all. But she looked like a whole different person all dressed up. Forever dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she was the girl next door. Put her in a dress, however…he couldn't blame them for staring. _He_ was staring.

However, there was a lot of staring going on. Beck and Dunne were staring at Heather, and Heather was staring at them. Everyone else seemed torn; few had seen Heather in a dress and _nobody_ had seen Beck or Dunne wearing anything other than field uniforms.

"Where'd he get a dress uniform, anyway?"

"Someone must have lent him one." She stopped short of mentioning that she was that person. No reason to get Jake upset with her on his wedding day.

Gail noticed the major noticing Heather alone by the punch bowl and meandered over to head off the inevitable.

"Major, would you be a gentleman and dance with an old lady?"

"Uh, sure. Although I disagree with that assessment."

"You're right. I'm no lady."

Beck looked at her, amused.

"You're really something, you know that?"

After they were safely out on the dance floor, she spoke softly, so only he could hear her.

"Don't, major."

"Don't what?"

"Ask her to dance."

He gave her a disconcerted look.

"How - ?"

"Please. Like it takes a genius." She waited as they completed the turn. "Wait until you take her home. Otherwise, tongues will start wagging."

He gave her a long, evaluating look as she spun.

"You know, you're being really nice to us. To me, especially."

"So?"

"I…wasn't very nice … to your son. Most mothers aren't that forgiving."

"Major, if you had done that before the bombs, I'd've killed you. But things change. I know that you could have done much worse – my boys endured Constantino before you got here. I've also come to realize you're not stupid enough to accidentally lead me to my son the way you did. Three men guarding my son on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere? You practically gave him back."

"So yes, I'm being nice to you. Not because I've actually forgiven you, but because I've decided you're a decent human being. But mostly, because Heather likes you. And I'm glad she's found someone."

"Then thank you."

They continued dancing, and after a particularly complicated step, she commented on it.

"You're a pretty good dancer. They still teach dancing in 'officer and a gentleman 101'?

"Actually, it was my mother. She insisted all her boys learn how to dance. I resisted at first, but was glad in the end. Great way to meet girls." He smiled. "Ally thanked her for it at our wedding. I think she was just glad that I didn't step on her toes in front of everyone."

"Don't be ridiculous. Women appreciate a good dancer."

"May I cut in?" Jake came up, looking less than thrilled at the sight of his mother dancing with Beck.

"Of course." Beck replied, releasing her hand.

"Thank you for the dance, Major."

"My pleasure."

Once safely in Heather's apartment, Edward took her by the shoulders and held her in front of him, taking the opportunity to ogle her properly. (His initial reaction had been more of a shocked stare, and thank _god_ Kristin had poked him before it got out of hand!)

"God, you're gorgeous."

"Thanks, Handsome." Heather replied, blushing. "Where did you get that uniform, anyway?"

"Mrs. Green lent it to me."

"Hmm. I don't know whether to thank her or strangle her."

"Huh?"

"Well, I _love_ the way you look in it. But so does every other girl in town."

"…So you're jealous?" He grinned at her.

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Then consider my side. You look gorgeous. Everyone believes you're single. And there's nobody in this town you've pissed off. As many as you believe will be after me, there's going to be twice as many after you."

"So I'll start carrying a stick." Then a thought hit her. "Did Jake recognize his father's uniform?"

"I don't think so. I rather hope not."

"He _was_ rather preoccupied with Emily."

"As he should be. It is a wedding, after all, and that's the groom's job. He did it well."

"And my performance…?"

He kissed her. "You failed miserably."

"Hey!"

"Everyone knows the maid of honor's job is to make the bride look better than everyone else. Whereas you _totally _upstaged her."

"I did not!"

"Then what was everyone staring at when I got there?"

"You, dummy."

"The women, maybe." She smacked him. "Hey, it's the uniform. I don't know why it works, but it's a documented phenomenon. Anyway, the guys were all looking at you."

"Dunne was there, too" she protested.

"Heather, I don't know why you've got it in your head you're not good-looking, but get over it. You're beautiful."

"Not like Emily."

"No, not like Emily." He agreed. "You're beautiful in a different, even a better way. She's got 'fashion model' good looks. You are cute, sweet, and adorable, which I find _way_ more attractive than any fashion model. A sweet, smiling girl in jeans and a t-shirt is better than a skinny supermodel any day of the week."

"Hmph." Was all she said.

"Now, are you going to dance with me or not?"

"Chicken dance?"

He laughed.

"I was thinking the Tango, myself."

"You'll have to teach me."

"Gladly."


	32. Chapter 32

He could tell that Heather was keyed up on the walk home, shivering more than the chilly weather really justified. But almost before he could holster his sidearm after sweeping the apartment, Heather pinned him down with a passionate kiss. Although initially surprised, who was he to argue? She finally pulled back for air, panting.

"Sorry about that. Been wanting to do that all day."

"Good lord, don't apologize for that." He said. "And while I probably shouldn't question my good fortune, what brought that on? If it was something I did, tell me, and I'll do it more often."

Heather chuckled.

"I dreamed about you last night."

"Must have been a good dream."

"It was, though it could have been better."

"Yeah? Do tell."

"Well, we were walking along a tropical beach – "

"Mmm, sounds good already. What were you wearing?"

"A bathing suit."

"What color?" he pressed

"Blue." She said. "Now, we were walking along for a bit, then I started to feel like I was getting crispy – "

"One piece or two?"

"Two, Eddy, now shut up." She told him. "And lo and behold, there was a grove of shady palm trees. And in that grove, there was a hammock, cold drinks, and a bottle of sunblock."

"Yeah?" Edward said, tightening his arms around her, liking where this was going.

"We drank the drinks – margaritas, by the way – and then you started to put on the sunblock." Edward's only response was a groan. "…and that was when the alarm went off."

"God, that's cruel."

"Yeah. Today was torture. Spent the whole day not being able to think straight."

"Well, now you've got me all riled up too."

"Hey, if you've got the time…"

He decided he did.


	33. Chapter 32 noncanon

Author's note: Okay, this is a plot bunny that ambushed me and would not let go. I can't really justify putting it in the 'canon' timeline of this story, but it just sort of wrote itself. And I figure, insanity is better shared. So, enjoy:

Major Beck was walking back to his tent when Sergeant Jones hailed him.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Have you seen Private Olsen? He was supposed to be on my work detail this morning, but nobody's seen him since last night."

"Olsen is AWOL?" Beck pursed his lips, thinking. He _had_ asked Olsen to do a task for him, but it certainly shouldn't have taken him all night.

"Yeah, it's weird, he's never late."

"Hmph." He scratched his chin. "I'll keep an eye – hey, there he is."

Private Olsen was in front of Beck's tent. Well, 'in front of' wasn't quite the right term. He walked towards it, almost knocked on the doorframe, then walked away – and then walked back to repeat the process, muttering to himself all the while.

"What the devil's gotten into him?"

"Olsen!" Jones called out, freezing the private with his hand in front of the door. He then slowly turned around to face them. Oddly enough, he seemed more terrified of Beck (who was more amused than annoyed) than Jones, who was decidedly on the peeved side. "Where were you this morning?" Jones asked.

"I, uh, was working on something for the major."

"That shouldn't have taken all night, soldier."

"I, that is, there were some complications. I can brief you in private."

The way he said it was odd – and he couldn't think of any reason for the briefing to be private, but he was amused enough to play along, and gestured to his tent.

"Alright, private. I didn't think that testing the security at Heather's place would take all night and into the morning. So what happened."

"Well, I picked the lock before she got home, and got in and hid. Then she got home and, well…"

Beck went pale. Last night Heather had practically jumped him as soon as he'd made sure they were alone. _Or I thought we were alone. Oh god_.

"I would have said something, but I never got the chance before…Sir, I won't – I would never - "

"Have you told anyone?"

"God no. I've been trying to forget it ever since."

"Good. Don't. _Ever_."

"Gladly, sir."

"Does Heather know?"

"I waited until she left to sneak out. That's why I didn't make it back till now."

"Last night _never happened_. Do you understand me?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

"One thing before you go, private. Just where were you hiding?"

"Under the bed."

"Impossible. I checked there."

"Did you look up into the box spring?"

"You were under -!"

Private Olsen didn't even wait for a dismissal, he just ran.


	34. Chapter 33

Beck had to fight the impulse to follow Heather into the bathroom and hold her hair back. She was not the first to fall ill; over half the staff had eaten egg salad that Mrs. White had brought them. He'd been glad when Mrs. White showed up, food in hand. It was a definite sign that the citizens of Jericho were starting to warm up to them, even if Mrs. White had been insistent that it was nothing special, saying that she had had to use up the big CostCo-size tub of mayo all at once. Refrigeration was highly uncommon anymore; the electrical draw was just too great.

He'd put out the word to the town about it. The rest of Jericho had eaten chicken (Bailey's), tuna (Base camp), fruit (the med center), and macaroni salad (city hall), all from the same mammoth jar of mayo. So far it looked like it was just the egg salad. Of course it would take out the sheriff's office, the nerve center of the defensive force of Jericho. If Mrs. White hadn't delivered it herself, he'd have suspected a low-tech form of biological warfare. However, it was more probable that being the last stop on her delivery run was the cause of the 'targeted' nature of the illness.

He picked up the radio and keyed the med center.

"Major Beck to the med center, over."

"Med center here, Major. Got another one?"

"Yeah, Heather this time."

"I'll send the wagon."

"Thanks."

He knew that there was little they could do over at the med center other then mother-hen the poor, puking victims of food poisoning, but it would prevent the possibility of dehydration. Just as importantly, it would get them out of the office. Those who hadn't eaten the egg salad were showing signs of sympathetic queasiness, and that was _not_ something he needed.

He saw Heather coming out of the bathroom looking paler than normal. He stepped out of his office to call to her.

"Heather, get your things together. I've sent for the wagon."

"Do I hafta? Why can't I just go home?"

"You have to leave the office. _You_ can fight with Mrs. Green about going home."

"Wimp."

"Better part of valor. Besides, she'll take good care of you."

"I hope there's enough room over there."

He looked around dramatically.

"It _is_ getting rather empty around here. Maybe I'll take the opportunity to play the music _I _like for a change."

"You mean - ?"

"That's right. Non-stop bluegrass."

She put on a mock-horrified look.

"I'll go. Hey, I think I see the wagon now."

"That's better. Remember to call for an escort when Mrs. Green lets you go."

He chuckled as she left and went to hook his iPod to the speakers, hearing her mumble to herself as she left about his musical tastes.

"Weirdo. Picking _bluegrass_ as a teenage rebellion. What _was_ he thinking?"


	35. Chapter 34

_Slow dancing, swaying to the music _

Heather watched the couples out on the dance floor. Well, what passed as a dance floor at Bailey's.

_Slow dancing, just me and my girl_

"Hey, you want to dance?" Heather was brought back to the situation by the voice of her 'date', a soldier who had recently transferred to office duty due to a broken arm. She'd been taken aback when he asked her out, but she came to her senses quickly enough that she hadn't blurted out that she was seeing someone. But she hadn't been able to think of any other excuse, so she'd accepted, coming to Bailey's, where he'd been talking for about two minutes now with no response from her.

"What?"

"You want to dance?"

"No, that's okay." _Not with you, anyway. _"I just like the song."

"All right. You want something else to eat?"

"No."

"What do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know." She looked over at the couples again.

"You sure you don't want to dance? I can't do anything fancy, but - "

"Yes." She snapped, then immediately apologized. "Sorry. I just – " she tried to come up with a suitable explanation.

"- Want to dance with someone else."

She looked at him in alarm.

"Relax, Heather, it's okay. The guys tried to tell me you had a thing for the major. I didn't want to believe them." Now she was truly alarmed. "Oh well. When the major comes around, tell him he's a lucky man."

Heather blushed in embarrassed relief. She wasn't a very good liar; the assumption that Ed wasn't ready yet was the only thing that had saved them.

"You want me to take you home?"

"Please." Heather said gratefully.


	36. Chapter 35

Karin looked around the basement, seeing other shapes move out of their huddled positions in the dim light of a few flashlights.

"It's over, right?" said a voice to her right

"Think so?"

"Yeah."

Karin looked around. More flashlights were on, but she still couldn't identify everyone.

"Roll call!"

"Posly!"

"Rainey!"

"Sorey!"

"Goodman!"

"Smith!"

"Frankel!"

"Harrington!"

"…Green!"

"Hawkins."

She went over the roster in her head. Heather had Saturdays off (lucky civilian!), so she was at probably safely home. Beck had called in, telling her he was late but on his way. He should have been nearly here by the time the tornado hit, though. He must have been pinned down en route, forced to seek shelter wherever he could find it.

"Ok, let's get upstairs and see how everyone else did."

"Major Beck, come in please. Repeat, Major, please respond."

"Beck here."

"Are you ok?"

"We're fine."

"We?"

"Heather and I. I was on Second street when I heard the tornado."

Karin rolled her eyes at Lts. Posly and Goodman, who sniggered into their hands. Second street was a block from Heather's place and less than half a block from the office. Moreover, the office door wasn't locked whereas Heather's was. None of them were surprised at this lack of logic in the face of impending danger. She waited for them to silence themselves before she keyed the radio again.

"Well, we're going to need you here ASAP, sir. Heather, your help would be appreciated."

"We're coming."

Setting down the radio, she shook her head.

"When is he going to wake up and smell the coffee?"

"I give it another three months."

"Three months until he comes to his senses, or three months until she forces the issue?" Posly asked.

"Hmmm." She saw the wheels turning in Goodman's head.

"Guys, can it. We need to get to work. You can start the betting pool later."


	37. Chapter 36

Edward had showed up a bit early to escort Heather to the office. He'd discovered that showing up early and having to 'wait for her' was a sneaky way of stealing a few more precious minutes alone with Heather. So he was sitting at her kitchen table, holding her left hand while she ate with her right. It was silly, he supposed, but he didn't care.

"So how did it go?" Edward asked. He hadn't been happy about the 'date', but Heather was right about appearances.

"Apparently you're a better actor than I am." The admission was grudging, given how he'd twitted her over it.

"Oh?" He tried not to smirk, and almost succeeded.

"Everyone knows I like you; you, however, aren't ready yet."

"I suppose that's to be expected, Ms. I-have-no-poker-face."

"I should point out that they also believe you've already sorta picked me. You just don't know it yet." She smirked at him. "Hey, do these eggs smell funny to you?"

He dutifully sniffed the eggs.

"Smell fine to me. Of course, I'm used to powdered mess tent eggs."

"Thanks for the qualification."

"Just being honest."

She sat down to eat them anyway, since wasting food was practically criminal. Ed watched her choke down the first bite.

"That bad? Really?"

"You wanna try it?"

"Okay."

"It's not so bad – Heather?" Heather was retching, and running to the bathroom. He followed, pulling the hair out of her face. He waited until she was done, then wiped her face.

"Guess you're staying home today. What else have you got?" He put a hand on her forehead. "No fever. Any coughing? Sneezing?"

"No."

"Tired? Achy?

"Always."

"I don't suppose you ate any more egg salad?" She shook her head. He sighed. "Well, let's at least get you horizontal." He steered her to the bed, but then she tripped over the edge of the rug. Fortunately, he managed to catch her.

"Ow!"

"Did you stub your toe?"

"No, you just grabbed my boob."

He chuckled.

"Sorry."

She glared at him.

"Hey, I didn't grab it _that_ hard."

"Well, it hurts."

Something twigged in the back of his mind. He ran his finger over her other breast. She grimaced.

"That shouldn't hurt, Heather." He paused, thinking for another way to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his brain. "Lie down." He went to the microfridge. Ah, he was in luck. A piece of raw venison. He brought it over to Heather, who was looking on in confusion. "Smell this." He cracked the lid and held it up to her nose. She immediately gagged.

"Heather, when was your last period?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"But – but – that's not possible! You know I'm on the pill!"

"And here you are, showing symptoms."

"It's got to be something else."

"I can't think of anything else. Let me get Mrs. Green over here, have her take a look at you."

She nodded consent, but she was still in shock.

"God, what if I am? What do I do?"

"Well, _we_ sit down and discuss it like the responsible adults we allegedly are."

"It would totally blow our cover."

"Well, that's getting pretty thin, as you've just discovered. We could just say the heck with it and announce it. It _would_ mean a full-time bodyguard."

"Ugh."

"Sorry, but it wouldn't just be for you." He stood. "Of course, we may be getting worked up over nothing. You sit tight, and I'll get her to come over."

"You can't just call her on the radio?"

"I am _not_ putting this call over the radio." He kissed her and pulled a trash can next to the bed. "I have to go now. I'll be back soon."

_Oh, thank god. She's already outside._

Beck went straight to the med center. He'd been trying to think of a legitimate pretext to ask for Mrs. Green, but had come up blank. His mind kept returning to the possibility of - . He broke off the thought and sped up to come alongside her.

"Mrs. Green?"

"Major." Gail smiled at him, until his worried expression registered. "What is it?"

"I, uh, - you got a minute?"

"Sure. You want to go inside?"

"Not if we're overheard."

"Heather?"

"Yes."

"She's been vomiting?"

"Wha -?"

"Major, your jacket has a bit of – " she pointed. "It has a rather distinct smell."

"Oh." He looked down. "Well, she's been sick all morning." Gail's eyebrows went up as she caught the slight emphasis on 'sick' and 'morning' and made the connection.

"Really? I thought that she was - " She broke off a someone passed by. Beck nodded; Gail had been able to discreetly supply Heather with the pill.

"She is. But the symptoms – "

"House call it is, then."

A look of relief washed over Beck's face.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"But I've taken my pill every day – never missed a dose - ever!"

A light bulb went off in Gail's head.

"Well, the timing's about right…" she murmured to herself

"_What!_" Heather glared at Edward, who looked confused.

"What?"

"He told you when we - !" Heather broke off, unable to continue.

Gail, realizing she'd been misunderstood, couldn't help but laugh.

"God, no, I just meant that it's been about a month since you had food poisoning."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Heather, what time each day do you take the pill?"

"With breakfast."

"And what time of day did you get sick after eating that chicken salad?"

"About ten in th– oh. OH."

"You took it, but it probably came right back up." She explained unnecessarily.

"So I don't need to smack him upside the head?"

"Not for this, no."

"Whaddaya mean, 'not for this'?" Edward cut in.

"I'm sure there's _something_ you need to be smacked over. I just don't know what it is." She began to pack. "I'll get the results to you tomorrow."

"And nobody will know the test is for me?"

"Heather, do you have any idea how many anonymous pregnancy tests I've run? Nobody will question it."

"Thanks."

As Gail gathered up her kit, she heard a smack.

"Hey! What was that for!"

"General principle."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, then attacked her with tickles, only stopping when he'd pinned her down on the couch. Heather mock-glared up at him. Gail thought they looked adorable. She actually felt a bit of a twinge; the sight of Beck grinning in his green army t-shirt reminded her of Johnston. But any resentment she felt quickly dissipated, and she smiled.

"Hey, general principal."

"Alright. We're even." Edward relented, leaning back to let her up. Just then, Heather grabbed his dogtags.

"When?" she asked, holding up his wedding ring. It was on the chain with Ally's ring and Jenny's tags, not with his dogtags.

"When you went out on that 'date'. I did a lot of thinking after I got over my initial jealous reaction. I realized – " he shrugged, unable to articulate it. "It doesn't bother you that I still wear it, does it?"

"No, Eddy, of course not! They're a part of who you are."

He looked at her for a long moment, running his fingers along her cheek.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Gail smothered a chuckle as Heather pulled him in for a kiss and showed herself out the door.


	38. Chapter 37

Colonel Beck glanced at Heather's empty desk and had to hide a smile. It really wouldn't do for his staff to think he was glad she was sick. But he was happy anyway; even without any medical confirmation, he cherished his suspicions. The timing might not be convenient, but somehow he was warming to the idea. And he thought Heather was, too, based on a couple of comments she'd said before he'd left. Another couple of hours and he'd go check up on her on his lunch break. He was working his way through a stack of status reports when the radio on his desk crackled.

"_Colonel Beck! Come in please." _The voice was urgent.

"Yes?"

"_Someone's taken Miss Lisinski."_

Beck paled, frozen by the news.

"_Sir? Are you there?"_

It took a few seconds to recover his voice.

"Yes, I'm here."

A few more seconds passed.

"_Sir, perhaps we should secure the area and gather evidence?" _the voice on the radio suggested.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be right over."

He drove up to Heather's place. He found his men talking to a nervous little girl holding a mewling kitten. The door was ajar; he was suddenly afraid to go in. He knew he had to keep his composure, not give away the secret they'd kept for the past few months. He didn't know if he could do that. Well, he was here now. It would look odd if he didn't review the scene. He took a deep breath and walked over to the lieutenant.

"Status report."

"The scene is secure. It appears that they used the child and the kitten to gain access."

"The _kitten_?"

"Elly found the kitten with a broken leg not far from here. She says a man suggested she take the kitten to Miss Lisinski. It was a setup – once the door was open, a masked man came out from behind the corner of the building and grabbed her from behind."

"Does she remember what the man who talked to her looked like?"

"No, she's still in shock – we had to drag her out of the closet. And, honestly, I don't think she was really paying attention to him – not with the kitten in her arms."

"Of course. When was this?"

"About half an hour ago."

"Any other leads?"

"Not yet."

Beck nodded, dismissing the soldier. He looked at the door once more. Well, here goes. He walked over to the door. There was a shoe at the entrance and an overturned umbrella stand, which caused a bitter smile. _She would put up a fight._ He went inside, which was undisturbed. There was a bowl of soup on the table, which Gail had probably brought over. He noticed that they had been playing scrabble, although – hmmm, that wasn't right. The words were all parallel. He walked over to the table to get a better look.

They were names, divided into columns. Boys' names on the left, girls' on the right.

His composure broke. This was too much. He turned on his heel and strode to the bathroom, where he could break down in private. He sat on the edge of the tub, head in his hands, and cried quietly.

Several minutes later, he heard a knock on the door. Capt Dunne's voice spoke.

"Sir? Are you ok?"

_No._

"Yes. What do you need?"

"Nothing, sir, just wanted to check on you." The concern in her voice was obvious. "I know you two are close."

_You have no idea._

"Just give me a minute, ok?"

"Yes, sir."

He tried to clear his thoughts. It wasn't easy. _I really should tell someone. I can't oversee this investigation. I can't even think straight._ He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Captain." He called quietly. He knew she'd still be standing by the door.

"Sir?"

"Come in." She did. "Close the door." She looked at him, saw where the tears had fallen. He saw her face soften in sympathy. "I need you to oversee this investigation. I can't. But I need it to look like I'm still in charge, simply delegating it."

"Sir?"

"Did you see the scrabble board?"

She was surprised at the non-sequitor.

"Yes."

"Those are baby names." She paused, putting two and two together.

_Whoa._

"Sir – I didn't know you'd –"

"You weren't supposed to. I was afraid that the ASA would use her against me if they knew, like before." His voice was bitter. "Didn't seem to do much good, did it? All that worry over the ASA, and I let Constantino's men take her."

"I hope they still don't know, that they just took her because she works in the office, because she was the easiest to go after. I don't want them to hurt her to get to me. I don't want them to know how much power they have over me right now. And I sure as hell don't want them to find out that she could be…"

"You don't know?"

He shook his head.

"Mrs. Green came by, took a sample…but no results yet."

He finished, burying his face in his hands. The sight tore at Captain Dunne's heart. _Déjà vu all over again,_ she thought to herself._ Poor bastard falls in love and _this_ happens._

"We'll find her, sir. I promise."


	39. Chapter 38

Jake was in the Sheriff's office, talking with Beck. His mother had defended the major's decision to delegate the investigation, but he still didn't understand it. So what if Beck felt guilty about Heather being kidnapped? Felt that he had screwed up? Jake shook his head in disgust. In his mind, those were reasons to go in and personally fix your screw-up, not shuffle it off on someone else.

"Jake, I can't lead this investigation." Beck paused for a moment, suppressing something Jake couldn't quite put a name to. "I fucked up – if I had done my job, she'd still be here."

"What? You fail once, so you give up?"

" - That's not - " Beck said angrily, but Jake kept going. He'd been mad enough when his mother had told him Beck was delegating the investigation. Dammit, Beck was the reason they took her! The _least_ he do was do his best to get her back.

"I thought she was your friend! Don't you want to find her?"

Beck turned fully towards to file cabinet to cover his breaking expression. _More than you'll ever know. _He heard a gasp from Jake. Shit, he'd said that out loud.

"My god – you love her."

He spun around, mask destroyed, really glad that the blinds were closed.

"You can't tell anyone." He grated out menacingly. Realizing it had come out as a threat, he softened his voice. "Please, I'm begging you."

Jake blinked, stunned silent for once in his life by the emotion Beck was showing. He'd seen the major pissed; he'd seen him mourn – he'd never seen him terrified. It was a full five seconds before he found his voice.

"You really do love her." Jake paused. "You know she likes you too."

Beck looked sharply at Jake – Jake still didn't know that they were together, and he wanted to keep it that way. Jake meant well, but he wasn't the best at keeping secrets. He sighed, giving an answer that was truthful but incomplete (he knew he couldn't lie successfully in his current state.) "I know."

"Then why - ?"

"I didn't want to give the ASA reason to go after her, too." Seeing Jake's puzzled look (_god he could be dense)_, he explained. "The ASA's is not above using loved ones to control people." His tone was harsh with the pain of memory on top of it all.

"…I thought your family died of the virus."

"They did. However, the ASA told me differently. They showed me 'proof' that they were alive. But they were always one step behind them, so I could never make contact with them, never let them know I was alive and where to find me. I was always waiting for the latest word, hoping that the next report would tell me - " He broke off, taking a deep breath. He realized that he was holding his dogtags through his shirt, and forced himself to let go. "It wasn't until I got the letter – through Texan channels – that I knew the truth. And that I should be glad they died of natural causes, not – "

"Oh."

"So you can't tell anyone. You need to lead the investigation with Dunne. I can't. It would only put her in more danger. Just act like you're reporting to me."

Jake paused in thought. The revelation he'd just received explained why the major hadn't made a move on Heather. But his original concern remained unanswered.

"Why aren't you leading the search yourself? I would be. I'd do anything to get her back."

"Because I _would_ do anything. That's why – It's too dangerous. I'm not objective enough. If I thought someone knew something – well, what I did to you would seem like a cakewalk. And that's not what Heather would want."

After an uncomfortable silence, Jake cleared his throat.

"Does Dunne know?" _She knows more than you, actually. A point I need to make to her. _

"Yes."

Jake didn't quite to know what to say next, so he excused himself.

"I'll go find Captain Dunne, then."

"She'll be back in from patrol at 1800."


	40. Chapter 40

Gail went to the sheriff's office after her evening shift at the hospital. It was virtually empty, as she'd suspected it would be at this hour. She sighed when she saw the expected exception to that emptiness, indicated by the light leaking out from the blinds.

She walked to the door of Beck's office and the sentry offered no resistance, even though they both knew that 'he's expecting me' was a complete lie. She'd hoped he would bury himself in paperwork, but instead he had cracked open a bottle of something. Apparently he'd passed the denial stage and was in the wallowing phase.

"You know, you should save that for when you can really enjoy it."

His head snapped up; apparently he was so deep he hadn't heard her enter.

"How many does that make?" she asked.

"Two."

She looked at the bottle, noting the level.

"How big were those two?"

"Relax. I started about here." He pointed. "I first cracked it open when…"

"When what?" she asked. When he hesitated, she spoke again, gently. "Were you sharing it with Heather?"

He snorted.

"I offered. She wouldn't touch it."

That got a wry chuckle out of Gail. He gestured to a seat.

"Speaking of which, would you like some?"

"A small one. Save some for when you find her." She took a sip of the proffered drink. "No wonder she beats you at scrabble. This stuff fries your brain cells."

"That _is_ its primary use. It never seems to find the exact brain cells I want it to, though." He looked morosely at his glass. "I had managed to hold onto the bottle, unopened, for five years. Until I got to Jericho. Until Heather."

"Until _Heather_?"

"Well, it's never anything she _does_. It's what she says. She has a way of pointing out uncomfortable truths. But she sticks around when the chips fall, god bless her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The first time, she called me a coward. Told me I couldn't see the truth – and then threw the truth in my face. I arrested her."

Gail sat up in surprise. Heather had never mentioned that.

"'Course, her words stuck in my brain, just as she intended. I let her go about two hours later. She chose to sit with me as my men decided whether to support me or arrest me, and almost certainly re-arrest her." He took another sip. "I should have sent her away, just in case. Fortunately, they didn't arrest us."

"Then there was the night she watched me get drunk. Let me ramble on for the longest time before she cut me off. It's like… she shoves you over a cliff or something, because it needs to be done, but then she catches you at the bottom. Or perhaps being shoved into a pool of cold water, to bring you to your senses, and then she fishes you out."

"And tonight…she's not here to talk to, or listen, or even cut me off. And this is the biggest fucking cliff I've ever seen."

They simply sat there for a bit, sipping their drinks. When Edward moved to refill his glass, though, she stopped him.

"Save it for when you get her back. There's just enough in there for that."

"Cutting me off, eh?"

"Well, I'm not Heather, but I can at least do that much. I'll even hold onto it for you until then, if you like."

"That would probably be a good idea." He looked on as Gail secured the bottle in her bag. "Why did you come here, anyway? I appreciate the company, but I'm pretty sure you didn't come for the drinks."

"Well, I knew you could probably use the company, but you're right, that's not the only reason I came. I…well I ran that test. And I didn't know if you wanted to know the results or not."

"Does she know?"

"I don't know." He looked at her, confused. "She wanted to wait until you were together, so I wrote it down on a folded piece of paper. I don't know whether she peeked or not."

"She _did_ put a bunch of names on the scrabble board."

"Doesn't mean she peeked. She may know anyway. Women can tell, you know."

"Yeah, I suppose I do."

"So, do you want to know?"

He pondered for a moment. He'd _wanted_ the answer to be yes. Before. But now… to possibly lose Heather was bad enough. To lose her and their unborn child would be… but he couldn't change that. All he could change was the knowing. And he'd discovered not knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

"Tell me."

"She's pregnant."

He nodded.

"Thank you."

"Good night, Major."

"Good night, Mrs. Green."


	41. Chapter 41

Author's note:

I was writing this and found this fic taking me in a different direction. A decidedly darker, hurt/comfort direction. But if that's not your thing, I didn't want to leave you hanging, so I wrote an alternate ending to wrap things up for you. Enjoy!

The rest of the story is posted as a separate story, in order to accommodate the different content/rating. .net/s/6912768/1/Scrabble_Addicts_continued

Heather rubbed her wrists, now free of the rope that had held them. She hadn't known if she would survive the standoff, but she had. _Mainly by sheer luck, _ she thought to herself. The tension had been thick enough to cut; a gun pointed at her, several pointed at her captor. Her luck had come when she passed out; her sudden weight had distracted her captor, and in the process of trying to grab her, he'd dropped his gun. Recognizing that Beck's men now had the drop on him, he had surrendered.

Where was Edward, anyway? She thought as she looked around. She knew that his men had been on the radio over ten minutes ago calling it in. He should be –

She heard the squeal of a humvee as it skidded to a stop, and her heart leapt when she saw Edward step out of it. Their eyes locked, and they drifted closer together. An observer would disagree, saying they snapped together instantly, like two magnets. Whatever the actual speed, they found themselves together, holding each other as if they'd never let go. Heather was vaguely aware of body armor poking her in various places, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was his arms around her.

"Marry me." He breathed.

"Absolutely."

They held each other for a full minute, finally becoming aware of the stares. They leaned back to look each other in the eye. It was obvious to each of them that neither had planned what they had said…or had any intention of retracting it.

"Well, are you going to kiss her or not?"

"Yeah, kiss her!"

The major looked up to find which of his men had made the comments – but Heather yanked him down by his chin strap and kissed him soundly, causing general laughter. Surrendering, he kissed her back, only peripherally aware of her other hand searching for him under the armor. Well, until said hand found his six. He was startled when she grabbed his ass, but she didn't release him from the kiss, ignoring a fresh wave of laughter. Finally, the kiss waned and he looked around.

"Happy now?" he asked the crowd.

Another bout of snickers answered in the affirmative.

"Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, I'm starving."

"Here, I've got some jerky…"

Heather gagged, retching as her held her hair. Not much came up, as she hadn't been fed much recently.

"Sorry. Forgot about that."

"Well," she said, wiping her mouth "I'm sure Bailey's has something…not disgusting. Like bread."

"Bailey's it is, then."

As they left, neither of them noticed the looks of sheer terror on the face of her former captor as he realized he had just held a gun on the major's girl.

The first thing they did at Bailey's was go to the bathroom to clean Heather up. She washed her face and pulled her hair back (washing it would have to wait). She finished by rinsing her mouth out several times.

"Well, that's as good as it's gonna get this side of a toothbrush and a bath."

"You look wonderful."

"Might not want to kiss me for a while, though."

"Nonsense." He replied, and immediately kissed her soundly, ignoring her token resistance for a few seconds and then he retreated. "I _always_ want to kiss you." She wiped her mouth again, glaring at him.

"Eddy, that was disgusting. Sweet, but disgusting. Don't ever do that again."

"Do what?" a new voice said.

"Mary? How did I miss you coming in?"

"I was in the storeroom." She said, coming in for a hug. "God, you stink."

"Yeah, I just threw up few minutes ago. Which apparently doesn't bother some people."

"What?"

"Would you kiss someone who'd just thrown up?"

"No…I don't want to get sick."

"Well, this idiot will." She said, pointing.

"Hey, it's not like I'll get sick. It's not contagious!"

"How do you know?" Mary asked, ignoring for the moment who was kissing who in favor of following the conversation.

"I gave it to her."

"Wait a minute." Mary paused, considering the two contradictory statements. "How can it not be contagious if you gave it to her?"

"It'd better not be contagious." Heather said. "If you give it to anyone else, the wedding's off."

"Wedding? What wedding? What's going on?"

The look on her face was so confused they burst out laughing. Finally, they relented.

"Come on, we might as well explain it to everyone at once."


End file.
